MAN IN THE MASK

Take For Granted

2009-11-04T11:15:00.002+07:00

As a college student, we were taught that reckless assumption is the beginning of the doom. It leads us to a false direction, wrong conclusion. But somehow, half of people in the world have a tendency to assume anything. They assume that every parents love their children. They assume that snakes bite. They assume that the sky won’t fall out in a second. But half others know better. Some parents abandon their heir. Some snakes only hiss. And God Knows when the sky collapse. The truth is overlooked by the assumption. Because the perk of an assumption is…, we feel safe and secure…. While consequently, the trouble is terribly shocking when the assumption fails us.

***

Crossing the street is the first thing every boyscout learned, quoting Elmo from the sesame street. To help an elder treading the zebra cross is a great achievement. And I WAS a boyscout, so to speak. At least for 4 months, until my arms sore from flagging semaphore (meh). But I’ve learned what Elmo learned. To see your right and your left before crossing the street and not to rush walking. Back then, I was really cautious whenever I have to go to the “street”. But not anymore after junior high school. Crossing the street is an easy thing. It’s like folding your shoe laces, or like dribbling the basket ball, or like peeking at someone’s closet. I mean, it’s not like we’re facing a death sentence. It’s a piece of cake. But that is when I’m totally wrong…

I realized it during the first month of driving my own car. First, I cannot say I’m a good driver that time (well, I jumped out the seat everytime there’s a honk behind). Second, I believe in “learning by doing” thing which obviously force me to take the car to every dangerous area that I think I should explore. Idiot indeed, since it means the risk of bumping to another car or even a human being is more than fifty percent. Then it came to my mind like a flood. How if I’m in the other side? I mean, how if I’m the one who presumably crossing the street as a casual routine activity and believe that every car has a pair of eye behind the steering wheel, actually found that the cars passing in front of my eyes are driven by irresponsible or incapable driver? The chance is high since we know how this country runs the driving licence test. I took everything for granted. I assume everyone get their driving license legally. I assume everyone is not medicated or under some drugs. I assume everyone is an expert driver. So, yes, I got the consequences. The victim is my teeth, my lips, my chin, my forearm, and some bruised skin. Heading right to the asphalts.

***

It’s good to know that you have people to confide to. People who always be there when everybody else seems hard to even open their ears. Lately, I’m running out of those people.
“Don't it always seem to go…That you don't know what you got till it's gone”, Counting Crows said while riding their big yellow taxi. I’m two hundred percent agree with them.

One time before the dawn, after some sleepless night, I try to contact some of my bestfriends. The first call is picked-up. We swapped hi and greet. I’m a bit feel guilty since I know the first one I call is not a morning person. But still, I relieved what I had on my head. It’s been a bless. Then to cover up my guiltiness, I apologized for waking him up, and ask if it’s ok if I call again at that wee hour next time. Blatantly he chuckle and said, “Man, I’m getting married next month, remember?” Then I thanked him. Though I know it’s somekind of joke, I took it as a no. I shouldn’t have done it at the first place. It’s kinda rude and selfish. I took him for granted. That he will always available when I’m in need. So I never call anybody more than 23 hundred since then.

***

I’m a fashionably late person. Well, not really fashionable…, but truly late, I admit. However I set my watch one hour ahead, it’s not making me a punctual man. And there are sooo many victims of my bad habit. My family, my friends, even my co-workers.

There was a meeting appointment which I grade myself as a not-really-important person. I think my other co-workers have almost the same information with what I have to deal with some issue. So consciously I put myself in another errand which I think would be better if I finish it earlier and set a standby mode. Not more than fifteen minutes, someone called me. His tone is furious. He was asking where I was and when I would have decency and a little bit responsibility to show my face in the meeting, since everybody wait for me before starting the meeting.

Surprised by the words in the phone, I realized that not only unprofessional, but I also took them for granted. That the issue would be thorough although one or two members are not present. It makes me remember a tale. About a village who try to make the very fine wine. The leader ordered all the villagers to donate one drop of their own wine in a jug. There’s someone who try to think “smart”. If only he drop water instead of wine, it wouldn’t really affect the total taste. But a half of the villagers assume the same. Then we know how a supposed-to-be-very-fine-wine turn out to be the most insipid wine ever known.

***

The constant. That is what keeps us sane in the world. Because everything is change. Nothing in the world but variable. Our life is ups and downs. Back and forth. People come and go. Science always has exemption. I can relate so much with Desmond Hume. With all the insanity in the world…, what we need is something stable. Something to hold on. Something that will always be there. Exist. Alive. Constant.

That is when we realize that the only constant is not a wealth, not a job, not a status, not a family, not a parent, not a friend, not also a lover. The only constant is GOD. Yet, most of the time we take HIM for granted. Maybe because we know that HE WILL ALWAYS LISTEN. That HE WILL ALWAYS PROTECT us. What we often forget is that we HAVE TO ASK first before. But, no. We forget. We cheat. We run from HIM. Therefore…, we lose our CONSTANT…, and prepare to be insane.

I.am.fine.

2009-10-12T10:37:00.005+07:00

No body wants to look weak. We dress up in any cloth which shows our strength, not our personality. We respond to challenges. Defeat, is absolutely not an option. We try our best not to limp in the way. We don’t flinch. We don’t give up. We get a bad exam grade, we move on. Our parents divorce, we move on. We snort and cramp, we move on. Our brother dies, we move on. We get heartache, we move on. We screw up in a job, we move on.

To show that we are strong, we live every second in consequences. No matter hard it is. We’re not screaming pain. We’re not crying. At least in public. But it’s hard to fake the face. And unfortunately, people read faces. And yet, we never succeed to build a perfect wall. So people ask. And everytime they ask, “are you okay?”, we always have the answer: “I am fine”.

Every tribulation and ordeal leaves a scar. No matter how tough we are. They are written in stitch, in gloomy face, in empty eyes, in heavy voice. They follow us everywhere. They change our outlook. They mess-up our life. And we keep saying, “I am fine!”

I. am. fine.
I. am. fine.
I. am. fine.

We keep saying those words. We need to say those words. It turns-out as a mantra to keep us survive. Really hopeful that the spell won’t broken, especially when the memory of pain come in wave.

At a certain point, we really wish there is someone who can look through the deep. Someone who understand the pain beneath. And ease it in a certain way. They don’t have to be human with telepathy skill. What we need is someone who just simply cares and fights a bit more to interpret what lies behind those words. As a matter of fact, when we said “I am fine” with all the dark-baggage in the face or in the tone…, people actually know. They know that we are not fine. At all. But only the close one who moves ahead by deflecting our words and say, “No, you are not fine.” Too bad, among them also rare who fight so hard, persistently, to get the reason why we’re not actually fine. They leave under so many excuses. Maybe they think it’s not appropriate to mess up with other people business. Or maybe what we need only space and time, not an annoyance. But how if they are our closest people? Our mom, our brother, our spouse, or even our bestfriend? Can we still say that they have to take care their own business?

In order to keep our sane, we don’t look again to the pain, the blood, and the fear. At the end, we just have to suck it up. And keep saying, “I am fine”. Go through with it. Move on. But, as Alex said, maybe that’s the point. All the pain, and the fear, and the crap. Maybe going through all that is what keeps us moving forward. It what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed-up. Before we can step up.

Sleeping in your backyard

I'm the comeback kid

"You're hired"

And I will play for you this rare old jukebox tune

That I knew well

I hope it goes as follows
And I hope it's all so special

Look what the day brought 'round

Drunkards, vagabonds, and clowns

He gave his all, there's nothing left
King of Sound, get some rest
And now there's room for happiness here

And he laughs beneath his crooked crown

Wears of will on his furrowed brow

And he won't ask for nothing now
That's what the people say

And he laughs beneath his crooked crown

Wears of will on his furrowed brow

And he won't ask for nothing now

Saw the lines upon his face

The journey of his life was traced

And he won't come back to this place

That's what the people say

[THE MOSTAR DIVING CLUB - Vagabonds And Clown]

How are you today, Mr.Cloud?

2009-10-07T11:52:00.004+07:00

Thunderstorms. Lately, among all nature has provided, I could relate most with thunderstorms. They were ominous, dark, and threatening like my mood when I was pissed. Then the rain came, heavy pourdown like the tears. The lightning resembled my thoughts –- scattered…, sharp…, painful…! The thunder was the voice in my conscious that berated myself as being so much weak. It is booming…, loud…, and fury….

Before today…, it was all an overcast days. Gray and grim. It seems everyday ended drag and dark. The shadows were deeper and the sun had changed its angle. And I folded up like origami after several folding failure.

Maybe it’s September. Or maybe it’s because Ramadhan spirit who bring so much consciousness about wrong and right, which leads me being so depressed as the realization comes in mind about me being in almost always at the wrong side. Or maybe it’s the hormone of “twenty-ager”. Or maybe it’s the insecurity of life. Or maybe it’s just me who’s being such a melancholic-a$s.

Day by day move on slow motion. Dream-like quality. Blur, yet tauntingly influential. Sometimes I wonder…, where am I who usually grinned like a Jack o’Lantern? And when did I stop being a buoyant and jumpy Tigger? And frankly speaking, I’m fed up about the innocent Pooh and the spoiled Piglet. Hell, I’m howling at the damning moon like the Lycans.

It was about the sinner guilt that kept you up at until three am, when you couldn't breathe from the bigness of it. It was about the silent cry that wet your bed and pillows, when no man able to dry them up. It was about the loss of vision of yourself in a year ahead. Clearly the thunderstorms are also messing my mind.

And than one day I heard someone was screaming, and not soon after, I realized it was myself.

***

Wake Up, Mr.Cloud!

Oh, am I still alive? My eyes catch a slight of morning light from the window blinds. I still lay there in my bed. Open star position formed by both my arms and legs. Then I look to the ceiling. No lamps on. But funny, the room feels bright. And I feel my whole body so light. No anxiousness. No worries. No pain. It’s not numbness. It’s calmness. I feel relieved. Something different today. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s October. Or maybe the serotonin has kicked-in. Or maybe I’m just a blissful moron.

How Are You Today, Mr.Cloud?

I don’t answer it. I just smile.

Tabula Rasa

2009-08-19T16:49:00.003+07:00

KATE: Are you okay?
JACK: [Blood spits, pants] Yeah.
KATE: [Sighs] You know, before we were caught... [panting] you said that we needed to put things back the way they were supposed to be. What did you mean by that?
JACK: If we can do what Faraday said... [sniffs] our plane never crashes... Flight 815 lands in Los Angeles. And everyone we lost since we got here... [chuckles] they'd all be alive.
KATE: And what about us? We just... go on living our life because we've never met?
JACK: All the misery that we've been through... we'd just wipe it clean. Never happened.
KATE: It was not all misery.
JACK: [Sighs] Enough of it was.

[LOST, 5.15 – Follow The Leader]

***

A clean slate. A blank paper. A start-over. An innocent baby. Those ideas are reeling around every incoming Ramadhan and Syawal. It feels like a routine to have people ask for apology from each-other. A stylish mechanism to redeem every bad-deed in the past. A suggestive system to let us off the hook for every mistake we had. Rebirth. And then we act like nothing has happened. All errors are forgiven. All misconducts are pardonable. A new page is turned. But deep down we knew, not all are forgotten.

We will never be a clean slate. The paper has already drawn by multiple-colors. And we’re live long enough to be called as a baby. Not when the memory of the past mistakes is still written in our minds. Not when all the failures, all the lies, all the mockery, all the betrayal, all the laziness, all the snoozes, and all the wickedness still linger now. Not when we cannot forgive ourselves. Tabula rasa is an impossibility.

On a regretful situation, we always tell ourselves, “IF ONLY I can turn back the time…, I will do different”. But it’s a trick that everyone knows never be happened. Whatever happened, happened! What’s done is done! We live in consequences now.

For some people, there is a period of time when the situation is terribly hard and the best way to avoid the pain is trying to forget it all. The memories, the past. Traumatized people have a repression mechanism not to remember those things. They are unable to remember anything for those periods of time. And the pain is gone. The burden is lifted. And they becomes an empty box again. Hollowed.

I have this portable hard disk. Owned for almost three years. It is a place I put all my project networks, office documents, and abundant of personal files. Somehow at one time, the hard disk is undetected. Zero. Nein. Blank! I did everything I can to retrieve all the files..., since two months ago. And none of them I got back. But the strangest thing is, I feel relieved. The length of three years postponed jobs is automatically closed. The shattered memoir on pictures and words are dismissed. And I can be a new person with a brand new hard disk to store a new life, a new job, and a new memories…, detached from haunted past. But the feeling is only temporary. The next thing I knew is... that I'm LOST. As if I jumped from three years ago, not doing anything, not giving anything, accept nothing! No evidence of every activity in last three years.

And that is how we should have figured. That being a clean slate doesn’t mean we have to forget everything. Because life is like piano. Among all the black tabs, there are still so much white tabs. Among bad people we had, there are good people come. Among bad experience we got, there are good moments we achieved. Not all were misery, as Kate said. Yes, we’re gonna experience the pitfall, the pain, and the loss. And yes, sometimes it’s hard to endure and we prefer not to remember it. But we are a learning creature. An old man is not a wise man if he’s not taking any lesson from his life. Starting-over does not mean we have to start at kilometer zero. It means we welcome every incoming days with a new mind. That today should be better than yesterday, and tomorrow should be better than the present.

A clean slate. A blank paper. A start-over. Tabula Rasa. Those ideas are reeling around every incoming Ramadhan and Syawal. Although we know that some of mistakes are never be forgotten…, still, we ask for forgiveness. To cut the old memories is not an option. Losing the memories is only for the crazy person. Growing pains. It defines us. It’s sharpening us. Something we need to face a greater challenge in the future.

***

SAYID: So you're telling me you're going to erase the last three years of our lives?
JACK: We can change things, Sayid.
SAYID: I don't know if you're aware of this, but I've already changed things. I killed Benjamin Linus, and we're all still here.
KATE: It's because you didn't kill him. Sawyer and me took him to the Others so that they could save him.
SAYID: [Solemnly] Why did you do that?
KATE: Why did I do that? Since when did shooting kids and blowing up hydrogen bombs become okay?
JACK: The three of us disappeared off that plane and ended up here, ended up now, because this is our chance to change things.
KATE: And if you're wrong, then everyone on the Island dies. Do you understand that?
JACK: I'm not wrong, Kate. This is it. This is why we're here. [Sighs] This is our destiny.
KATE: Do you know who you sound like? Because he was crazy, too, Jack. You said so yourself.
JACK: Well, maybe I was wrong.
KATE: No, you were right. I'm going back to find the rest of our people, because if I can't stop you, then maybe they can.

[LOST, 5.15 – Follow The Leader]

To Change a Blood Type…

2009-08-14T11:27:00.000+07:00

In the try-out to win competition of market share, change is inevitable. New products are created, activation techniques are updated, level of efficiency is increased. Innovation is everything. Nothing remains the same for long. We either adapt to change…, or we get left behind. But the ugly truth always the same…, that “change” is the most difficult thing to do. Especially if we talk about a character change, which involves a lot of mind-shifting and heart-struglling. It seems as impossible as changing our blood type. Until yesterday…

At high-school, we learned that a blood type is a blood classification based on the presence (or absence) of inherited antigenic substances in the red blood cells. Type-A is for those who have A antigen, Type-B is for those who have B antigen, Type-AB for those who have both, and Type-O for those who doesn’t have both. If a Type-A is exposed to another blood, the immune system will produce antibody B that can specifically bind to that particular blood type antigen. So, if the other blood is a Type-B or Type-AB who have B antigen, then it will bind and lead to destruction of the cells.

As we know, blood types are inherited and represent contributions from both parents. Once you are a Type-A, you’ll always be a Type-A. Well…, theoretically. Because after I’ve had a test during blood donor yesterday, I’m really wondering now. My father is an A type, while my mother is an AB type, so the possibilities are I’ll be an A type, B type, or an AB type. Type-O is impossible. And most of previous tests in the past have shown that I’m an A-type. But somehow yesterday result gave me a shock. I’m a Type-O. Even after I asked for the second test. There’s no agglomeration or any cell destructed in the test-plate. And then I recall that in junior high-school, I was claimed to have Type-O also but I assumed it’s just a wrong test. But it intrigues me right now. Has my blood type changed? Because the possibility that I’m an adopted-kid is out of the table. I know my history. I have checked it thoroughly when I felt as a misfit in the family. But how can the law of genetics not applied to me?

A friend of mine, weeks ago, tell me to change my behavior. He asked me to be more… socializing…! Cut all the crap about solitary. Becoming a sociopath is not a good way in life. Stop for being so complicated and stubborn!

I argued. Because I’m not hurting anyone. And without “socializing”, I have so much way to learn and contribute. Not that I don’t care for people. It’s definitely the opposite. I care about them by spare everyone an effort to understand and pretend to be nice to some guy who looks abnormal among them. I don’t need everyone to praise me by doing every narcistic and exhibitionist acts people usually does. And change… I don’t like it. I resist it. People can accept me as I am or move away.

Then today, I realized. Even a blood-type is changed. And without my consciousness…, I AM changed…! I was a Type-A who is demanding, perfectionist, stubborn, uptight, and has a narrow range of tolerance has gradually become a Type-O who is less cloudy, more optimist, brave, and has a wide range of tolerance and empathy towards people’s mistakes, beliefs, and perceptions.

Change.
We don’t like it.
We fear it.
We resist it.
But we can’t stop it from coming.
We either adapt to change…, or we get left behind.
It hurts to grow. Anybody who tells you it doesn’t is lying.
But, still, we need to change… however great the pain comes along…

Doesn’t Have To Be Anna Frank To Be Understood

2009-08-10T17:02:00.004+07:00

A similar film-genre as Dangerous Minds (1994) or Freedom Writers (2007), Entre Les Murs (In English: “The Class”, although it’s literally means “Between the Walls”, as if the “class" is equal with “walls” –nice catch anyway-) brought in French and deliver the same topic: difficult-teenagers-and-multi-racial-students lead by a great teacher in some horrific environment. But, all-in-all, that is the only similarity I found.

Unlike the first two films, “Entre Les Murs” doesn’t end up changing a class that previously can’t sit together in the same room to a group of individuals who care into themselves and all their friends. No, no. It ends in a bittersweet situation. Almost unsolved situation (as in “Where God Left His Shoes” situation). It’s just like a documentary about a (more-intense) racially diverse class (France, Chinese, Arabs, and Africans) hooked-up by a French teacher who is day by day really struggle to give sense into his students mind. He’s a kind of accommodative person who always tries to cater every student’s opinion although he knew that they need a special separate attention and also a different way of teaching.

If you have seen “Gilmore Girls” series (yes, I admit that I watched it -great writings i may say-), you’ll find a very fast pace of dialogue. Not only fast, but also witty and intriguing. It’s challenging for the actor and also for the audience, because the power of the film is ON the dialogue. That is why “reading the transcript” has so much amusement as “watching the film” itself. In Entre Les Murs, the film is purposely made in an “audience-eye view”, my term to say that the camera is moving right and left, wobble a bit, in order to catch up “who’s talking now”, which made the film looks pretty genuine.

As a French teacher, Francois Marin, the main cast, aim is to make every individual in his class can communicate well. Maybe that's why the film itself made in a fast-pace dialogue. Somehow he (and the writer) realized that “communication” is the basic skill for people to understand each other, especially among smart Chinese student who feel so intimidated and ashamed with his friend’s behavior, African Moslem students who have their own gang, Arabian boy who hesitate to open up his mind due to racial issue, and black kid from Carribbean who thinks France is also his country.

Therefore, the teacher, Francois Marin, has instructed his pupils to make some writing about self-portray. The aim is subtle. To make every student understand about other different kind of people. Deeper down, that way, everyone can express what they felt and be understood by others. It’s a thing that make someone feel worth and an antidote for socio-pathology. Hopefully, at the end of the day, they can build the spirit of tolerance and understanding among each other. In a big picture, this class is also a “prototype” of France society which is racially diverse, religiously tolerant and connected only by the French language. Salute!

***

Mr. Francois Marin: I learn about Anne Frank… because she talks about herself and so I get to know her. When I ask you to write your own self-portraits, I’ll expect the same. In other words, to learn things through your feelings. You can talk about facts. That will allow me to know you better. Yes, lucie…

Lucie: What we write won’t be as gripping as what Anna Frank wrote. Our lives aren’t as gripping as her.

Mr. Francois Marin: All right. Juliet.

Juliet : Someone aged 70 could talk about their life, but we have nothing to tell at 13.

Mr. Francois Marin: At 15, 14, or even 13, you’ve had experiences.

Juliet: Less than someone aged 70. They’ve lived a lot more.

Mr. Francois Marin: Ok.

Juliet: They have seen “life”.

Mr. Francois Marin: It’s funny. You don’t think your lives are interesting?

Juliet: We just come to school, go home, eat, and sleep.

Mr. Francois Marin: Okay, so you come to school, eat, sleep. Fine! The bare facts of your life are dull. But what you feel is interesting…!

Juliet: My Feeling? That’s my business.

Mr. Francois Marin: Maybe, but I’m interested.

Juliet: That’s different.

Mr. Francois Marin: Why is it different?

Juliet: Because you are a teacher.

Mr. Francois Marin: It’s not the teacher talking.

Juliet: It’s your job.

Mr. Francois Marin: It’s me being the human being.

Juliet: I think you’re only saying that to get us to talk and stuff, but it’s not true.
Mr. Francois Marin: It isn’t? What isn’t true?

Juliet: The fact that you’re interested in knowing all that.

Mr. Francois Marin: So I’m not interested at all and I’m pushing at this to convince you it’s interesting?

Juliet: Not as much as you say.

Mr. Francois Marin: Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. It’s only natural since you don’t agree with me. But deep down, I’m totally sincere. Why is it such a problem for you to talk about your life?

Boubacar: Well, there’s stuff…. There’s private stuff.

Mr. Francois Marin: Of course. What could be hard to say about your private life?

Burak: We may be ashamed to say certain things.

Mr. Francois Marin: Okay, it has to do with shame. Things you find it hard to say and even harder to write. So tell me, in your life, what were you ashamed?

Boubacar: You can be ashamed of a pal’s mom.

Mr. Francois Marin: Why? Because you find her ugly?

Boubacar: No, for instance, Rabah’s mom, she offers me lunch but I refused, because I was ashamed.

Mr. Francois Marin: Ashamed to eat with her?

Boubacar: Yes.

Mr. Francois Marin: Because she’s beneath you?

Boubacar: No.

Mr. Francois Marin: I don’t understand. Tell me why…

Boubacar: I’m ashamed to eat with her…, because I respect her.

Mr. Francois Marin: You never eat with people you respect?

Boubacar: I mean, she’s not my girlfriend.

Mr. Francois Marin: You can only eat with a girlfriend?

Boubacar: Achh…!

Mr. Francois Marin: Tell me why. I’m interested.

Boubacar: I cant explain it. In any case, I’m ashamed I always hang out with Rabah, so I respect his mom. I don’t eat in front of her.

Mr. Francois Marin: [to the class] So if Boubacar eats in front of us, he doesn’t respect us.

Boubacar: No, it’s not that. You can’t understand!

Mr. Francois Marin: I’m not smart enough?

Boubacar: You just can’t understand.

Mr. Francois Marin: Yes, Rabah?

Rabah: I was at the party with the snobs.

Mr. Francois Marin: Snobs?

Rabah: Yeah, like you.

Mr. Francois Marin: What is a snob?

Rabah: Someone who stinks of cheese.

Mr. Francois Marin: So the people at the party stank of cheese?

Rabah: They were all in suits and ties. I was in my baggies and got these weird looks.

Mr. Francois Marin: You were ashamed?

Rabah: Yeah. Because of the looks.

Mr. Francois Marin: They were embarrassed because of you and you felt the same.

Rabah: They weren’t embarrassed. They looked at me like I was an Alien.

Boubacar: You ARE an Alien.

Rabah: Shut up! In their eyes, they’re questioning, “Why is that arab here?”

Mr. Francois Marin: Ok, so it was a race thing.

Rabah: I don’t know. But the snacks were bacon flavored.

Mr. Francois Marin: So?

Rabah: So I abstained.

Mr. Francois Marin: Right, bacon, ham, ok. Sorry, I get it.

[Bell’s ring]

Mr. Francois Marin: I think that covers them all. You have all you need to figure it out. Take out your exercise books. Note the following exercise for next Thursday. It’s very simple, write your self-portrait. A self-portrait isn’t an autobiography. I don’t want your life story. Describe your self and your personality. Describe your feeling. So everyone can understand.

In Search of Sanctuary...

2009-08-05T16:08:00.005+07:00

Are

you

there?

Cubicle. Sometimes four times five. Sometimes two times three. Even one times two meters. The length and the width of a room where I supposed to meet you. Are you even fit in those narrow places???

Flavours. Would you tell me the flavour of heaven? Is it clement like a scent of grass? Or strong like a rose? Or even arousal as pheromone? Definitely not stink like a piss. A common odour I used to find in a place I supposed to meet you. Are you even willing to be there???

Lord,

Are

You

there?

It’s usually a quickie pray along the workday. A left-over time among business and errands. Sometimes corrupted by over-hour meeting or even working-lunch. I wonder if I still deserved to meet you in this kind of situation…. While in the dawn…, I’m always occupied with my dream. A second life which stopped abruptly in empty space of my heart.

At the end of the week, I meet you in the basement of a mall, in the change-room of a sport center, in the dark room behind a movie theatre, in a kitchen of a restaurant, or in the waiting room before boarding at an airport. All those tiny rooms which are intended for people who might remember to pray. It’s just an excuse to call those rooms as “decent”. Sometimes, situation forced me to greet you in the bus, on the train, or inside an airplane. Where I can’t make my face steady to one direction and I cant even have a clean water before say hi to you.

My

God,

Are

You

there?

I know. It’s OK. There’s no impossible word in your dictionary. Your authority is all over the space and time. But if there’re people who pray in a decent masjid, and people who pray in whatever place as is it…, I bet you would choose the first group. And I WANT to be in the group you chose. A group who meet you in the best cloth they have…, in the great effort to wake up before the sun rise and walk far to the clean-and-smells-good-places where holy words recited.

Maybe, I still feel alone there. Although people looks friendly and all, but I can say that they cannot see something inside me. But, it’s enough. Because there’s a certainty that you are there. Seeth me. Listeneth me. Understandeth me. So I beg to you to give me a courage and persistence to always spare some time to go to those places, even at the most impossible time. I cry a lot there…, but my soul is calm. Indescribably calm.

My

Lord,

You

ARE

There…,

Aren’t You?

Perfect Stranger…

2009-08-03T19:44:00.003+07:00

# : Are you nervous?
% : Exactly the end of this week, I will be married…. Of course, I’m nervous.
# : Yes, sure you are. And a bit lost of track…
% : I do?
# : Just a bit.
% : It’s just… big! A very big thing. A big step.
# : I got the point.
% : The problem is, it seems I’m going to marry someone who is a stranger…
# : everyone WAS a stranger…, until you know them!
% : But I don’t really know her.
# : You will…, eventually.
% : So technically, I’m marrying a stranger.
# : You’re freaking out! Calm down.
% : I am.

# : You’re not. What bother you right now?
% : I’m thinking that maybe I’m a stranger also for her. And maybe after the marriage, she’ll know, that I’m not as good as she thought before.
# : Well, she’s not perfect also.
% : But what if her imperfection is his inability to accept me as I am?
# : But you have a great capability to care for a stranger. And I believe your affection can make her grateful to have you as a husband.
% : Really? I hope so.
# : It’s actually unusual to have you asking those questions.
% : Why?
# : Because you are the most optimist and easy-going person I’ve ever met.
% : Haha. I’m still learning to be optimist.
# : And oppositely, I’m a pessimist person, uptight, and perfectionist. I wonder why I can be so calm about your situation. I would seriously freaking-out if I’m actually stand in your shoes right now.
% : No, you wont. You’ll put every single of your genius logic brain to make it the wondrous event in your life.
# : Hmm. I hope so.
% : And you’ll be my “pager-bagus”. Don’t be late. You need to make-up your face and put a dress.
# : Ah, so much for being a “pager-bagus”. Can I just eat and watch the ceremony?
% : No you can’t. You have to ensure that my guests don’t do harm in my event. Okay? I count on you for that.
# : Why don’t I just tackle all the fussy guests and leave you in peace on the stage?
% : Haha. I’ll bet you do that…!

# : Just relax. You might found that at the of the day..., your stranger you'll gonna be married..., is the perfect stranger you ever found..., no matter how much the weakness you captured in your eyes...

% : Aamiiin...

The Eye of Ra'

2009-07-24T18:24:00.006+07:00

An eye in the dawn above the spectacular Mount Bromo....

So this is where the myth come from....

The Life and Death of Limb Bumblebee

2009-07-22T18:24:00.003+07:00

Limb was born with so many sisters. Identical sisters, even. That what makes her everything but special. She’s a nature sample of a simple and ordinary offspring in extended family. She has her own room, however small and free-accessories it is. She has the same skin that everyone-but-God-only can recognize the difference with his sisters. It can be said that her childhood went under the absence of parents. Just so many friends. Yet, there’s no abandonment issue for her. She grew up so proud and healthy.

As a teenager, she never felt lonely. She’s always around her group. Others call them colonies. They are the greatest influence for her. They taught him how to fly, how to buzz, how to find the best flower, pollen, and nectar. They taught her how to use a weapon to protect herself if there’s something annoy her. A weapon which actually hurt himself everytime she makes a sting. She knew she have inability to hear since she and all her friends don’t have ears, but she learns to listen the world in every vibration she feels.

As an adult, she never knew that hormones take control on her life. Not only for the function of her organs, but also the role of her life. Unlike the queen, her hormones that stimulate the development of the ovaries are suppressed in her kind. A female worker kind. What she knew is her destiny, to gather the pollen and nectar. Bring them back to her nest. Feed the queen and make a honey lagoon.

She never feels jealous toward someone, including the queen. She accepted what she is. She never feels the urge to have someone special. She already has her colony. She’s never been married. She has no thought about it at all. She just work until she dies.

Happiness. She never thinks about it even once. She just feels that she do the right things. And that is what makes her really peaceful. Happy? She doesn’t know it! Satisfied? Well, she never feel less! Just calm, quite, and peace. A nice feeling for her. It’s enough. She doesn’t need “happy”. She has fulfilled her destiny….

"And thy Lord inspired the bee, saying: Choose thou habitations in the hills and in the trees and in that which they thatch; Then eat of all fruits, and follow the ways of thy Lord, made smooth (for thee). There cometh forth from their bellies a drink diverse of hues, wherein is healing for mankind. Lo! herein is indeed a portent for people who reflect." (QS. An-Nahl [The Bee], 68-69)

The Significant

2009-07-14T17:24:00.004+07:00

Let say one of your family, the significant one, has made a mistake. To you. And you know that you get angry and bitter and disappointed. And he asked your forgiveness. What would you do?

If you ask me, I say I ran. Because that is what I did, not because that what I wanted. It’s simply a chemical reaction in my brain who told me to redeem a greater conflict when you know you can’t instantly forgive. And yes, I acted meaner to people I care. It’s explainable, not that I excused. But an apology is a card that shifts a criminal into a victim when it’s not accepted well. So I was a criminal then. A runaway criminal. A fugitive who took off to another country for two weeks without telling anybody where he goes. Yes, I know. It’s preposterous…! Even for myself.

***

Isn’t it sad?
To feel LESS about somebody?
To think LESS about somebody? In quality and also in frequency?
Deep down, you wanted them to be in an honor place in your life. But the situation has changed. They are changed. They slid-out from your heart without your knowing. And probably, your perception towards them is changed.
Isn’t it sad?

You find yourself a new environment. New community. Even a new family. Sometimes with an opposite culture and habituation. But life teaches you to love people you’re with. So you move on. Gradually adapt although you know you never be the same in every game you play. You try to face forward. But sadly, within cry and laugh along the new acquaintances, your eyes are always looking for those who ever be significant parts in your heart. And it was such a waste, since you’re only looking to the atmosphere.

***

The significants. You preserve them. You care about them. You hold unto them. But when the significants bail on you, you desert them, because of the fear you might feel hurt again, although the pain is inevitable anyway when you lost them.

***

At one point, you realized…, the only significant person in yourself…, is only you…! [however selfish it sounds]

Hedgehog's Dilemma

2009-06-18T10:33:00.004+07:00

Shinji Ikari is walking to school alone.
Misato: “I gave him a portable phone out of necessity a while ago. It seems he hasn't used it, and no one has called him. I'm not sure, but I think he has no friends.”
Ritsuko: “He seems to have a personality unsuited to making friends, doesn't he? Do you know the story of the "Hedgehogs' dilemma"?”
Misato: “Hedgehogs? The thorny ones?

Shinji’s Classmates are talking and playing in the classroom.
Ritsuko: “If a hedgehog wants to be close with other hedgehogs, the closer they become, the more they hurt each other. It's the same with some people. The same is true for Shinji-kun. Because he is frightened by the aches in his heart, he now seems so aloof and distant. The more pain his heart endures, the more afraid he becomes.”

Shinji enters the classroom silently. Rei is sitting alone at her desk, staring outside.
Misato: “Well, eventually he will realize, growing up means being hurt whether you’re close with others.., or if they’re kept at a distance.”

[Neon Genesis Evangelion, Ep.03: TRANSFER, Naranai Denwa – Unringing Telephone]

I was introduced with Neon Genesis EVAngelion in second grade of high school. If you can’t recall, EVA is an anime series which known in Indonesia about 10 years ago. The story was set in Tokyo-3, the remaining area in the earth after the “second impact”. To protect the humanity left, there’s a military organization called NERV who have ammunitions in form of “robots” called EVA which piloted by children. Their intention is to kill all the ANGELs who always try to attack Tokyo-3. I stop here because there’s so much to say and the story is severely complicated to be written in a page.

It’s very unique in term of how I understand the depth of the story, its plot and characters, even the writer. And believe me…, I NEVER WATCHED THE SERIES…! There’s a boy next to my seat who seriously fond to this series. I didn’t know how it begun, but he start to sent me one by one the transcript of the series. He highlighted some dialogues. We switch opinions. He showed me the picture of the character, but he never asked me to watch it. Then I know what he means. And I can understand him. I think. And I really worried…!

No wonder this series called as a controversial yet really influential anime. There are so many people, especially teenage who try to do suicidal thing after watch it. But the truth is…, I really like this series, regardless the way I know it, regardless how graphic the visual portraying human body and violence. Yes, I admit, few days ago I watched the movie version: “REBUILD EVANGELION 1.0: You Are (Not) Alone”.

When the boy gave abundant information about EVA…, I know, that someway, he try to express himself that one of the character in the series is just like him. He wanted to be understood. And I know the reason why he picked me to share his things. Because he knew, I might be just like him too. Just like the person in the series also. Therefore, the chance of me understand him is quite high. Although he still try to “protect” me by prohibited me to watch it. And I do…, understand him…

Misato: Don't you think it's nice?
Shinji: *no clue*
Misato: Having a meal with others?
Shinji: (whisper) Ah.., yes…

[Neon Genesis Evangelion, Ep.02: BEAST, Misiranu Tenjou – Unknown Ceiling]

EVA carried out so many biblical terms, judaism, gnosticism symbols, and also philosophical and psychological issues. Adam, Eva, Angel, Lilith, First Child, Genesis, Thanatos, Separation Anxiety, Hedgehog's Dilemma, Marduk, just name it! You can find it analogously described there, twisted upside down. Maybe that is the most attracting things in EVA for me. Existential themes of individuality, consciousness, freedom, choice, and responsibility are heavily relied upon throughout the entire series. And the boy was right…, the dialogues bring so much “ah”-moment that him and I can even say at that time, “The writer has the same feeling and experience with me”. And our classmates knew, we were the two nerds in this century….

Since then, we are bestfriend. Until one day people start accusing him as having mental illness…! They sensed that he always felt agitated. Lethargic. They sensed inappropriate regret, helplessness, and hopelessness. I always said they’re wrong! He just need some time to think about the priority in his life. And I know, he was lonely at that time. I tried to reach him, but nothing I can do. Lame excuses, I know. He seems so hurt every time I try to be close. So I gradually leave. Give up. Something I really regret. I shouldn’t have given up. I should stick around, whether he ignored me or not. But we can’t rewind the time. It’s a trick that everyone can’t help about. And I…, have to live this life remembering that I’m not a good friend.

Accidentally, I found the movie series is launched in Blitz. I watched it. Alone. Not only because I want to see the moving scene from the written dialogues, but also to remember some moments with him. It’s the month of his birthday, the universe decided. As if the writer forced to launch it in Indonesia at this month after 10 years of the series out. The name of the writer is HIDEAKI ANO. And recently, I know, that the writer itself, writing EVA after he suffered from clinical depression. I suddenly think about myself…!

Fuyutsuki: One cannot live without being surrounded by others.
Gendou: One cannot live alone.
Ritsuko: One is always unique.
Ryouji: So, it's hard.
Asuka: So, it's sad.
Misato: So, one wishes to feel others' minds and bodies.
Rei: So we wish to be one.
Fuyutsuki: A human is made of weak and fragile materials.
Ritsuko: The mind and body are also made of weak and fragile materials.
Gendou: So it is necessary to compliment by the instrumentality of each other. Why? There's no other way to live. Is that true?
Rei: Why do you live? I've no idea.
Asuka: I might live to know why.
Rei: For whom do you live?
Asuka: For myself, of course.
Shinji: Probably for myself. Is that true?
Rei: Do you enjoy your life?
Shinji: I wonder.
Rei: Do you enjoy your life?
Asuka: Of course yes.
Rei: Do you enjoy your life?
Misato: I don't want to do anything not enjoyable.
Ryouji: You hate being sad?
Shinji: I don't like it.
Ryouji: You hate hardships?
Misato: I don't like them.
Ryouji: So you run away.
Misato: Yes. Do you blame me, for running away from something I hate.
Shinji: I can't run away.
Rei: Why don't you run away?
Shinji: If I ran away, it would be more painful.
Rei: You ran away from something painful
Shinji: It was painful.
Asuka: If you know the pain, then everything's OK.
Misato: You can run away if it's painful.
Rei: You can run away from something you truly hate.
Shinji: But, I won't. I don't want to run away. No. I shall not run away.
Misato: It's because you already know that running away results in more pain.
Asuka: You know how painful it is to run away.
Rei: So you don't want to run away.
Shinji: I said, if I ran away, nobody would care about me. Don't desert me! Please! Don't desert me!
Asuka: You fear being hurt.
Misato: You are trying to believe that.
Kensuke: Not only you but also others are hurt.
Touji: Everybody feels hardships.
Hikari: You think that, because it's easier for you.
Shinji: Shut up! That's nothing to do with me. People don't care about me.
Misato: And you always desert your worth.

[Neon Genesis Evangelion, Ep.26: Finale]

Butterfly Effect

2009-06-12T16:18:00.001+07:00

Nice morning for everyone…, except for Mr. Van Illogical. He has a fight in Singapore custom, just because he felt insulted when the security officer asked him to open his notebook and check whether he has an original Microsoft operating system or not. A silly procedure for him, a vice president one of the greatest consumer goods company in Indonesia. “Unbelievable,” he said! But, indeed, it has given him a bad mood for a whole day. In the airport lounge, he opened the monthly report and realized that one among abundant parameters year-to-date performance report has not achieving the target. “Impossible,” he said. The nerve button is hit, and at an instant, he grabbed his cellphone.

It’s a beautiful day for Mr. Big-Picture…, until he heard his cellphone beeping and noticed his boss’s name in its monitor. As what expected, there’s a question he must answer which leads to another questions and another anger and another shouting. He’s not a person who can shout back to his boss, especially if he not really understands what the exact fact is. Come on, he’s a Director. Should he know that details? But he keeps those minds for himself rather than speak it up to the VP. Instead, he burst his anger out toward his subordinate.

Mrs. Control thought there’s nothing in the world which can make her day bad right now. But she was wrong! Out of the blue, she was called by her director. And without any preamble, she was shouted and judged as being lose-of-control toward one matter. She’s not accepted it and fought back with a thorough explanation about the fact. She can’t win. The number is there. Below target. How much story and reason she blurts cannot change it. Overlooked! As a senior manager, she doesn’t mind fighting with his boss, but she does furious if there’s something missed. Abruptly, she calls a sudden meeting. A.S.A.P is written in the memo.

Mr. Sensitive and his colleague got the memo in front of them right in the middle of lunch time. He’s hungry but his kind and thoughtful mind said that his boss curiosity is hungrier. With supervisor obedience, he and his team follow the instruction. By the time he entered the meeting room, he felt the dark aura. Instantly, he predicted this meeting wouldn’t be a fruitful discussion. It would be a judgment. And yes, he’s right. He forgot his hunger and find his evening get darker…

Mrs. Ask-Too-Much has a long day. Shopping, gossiping, and watching soaps. When the sun goes down, she found her husband older than this morning. He went home in messy uniform and mussy hair. She asked what happened. The man didn’t answer. There’s too much in his plate right now. She keeps asking. And the man still not answering, hoping his wife sensitive enough to stop the question when he shows a gesture that he don’t want to be questioned. But she is who she is. And when somebody ignored her, especially her beautiful husband…, she gets mad. Even furious.

The kid in the corner is playing PS2. He’s really enjoying it. Even he ignored the meals that his mother has provided for him. But it didn’t last long. The mother comes with an ugly face. McKid keeps playing. By the time she noticed his son hasn’t eaten his meals, she shout, “If you don’t finish your meals in three minutes, I bet you wont get any money for tomorrow! And shut the TV off...! I wanna watch ‘Me & My Mom’ TV show!”

McKid went to the kitchen. His appetite is gone. He searched for another meal. He wants a nugget he kept from this morning. But his eyes captured a cat busy shoving something to its mouth. The thing is a nugget! A broom in the corner is grabbed hastily by the kid and shoved to the cat. Again and again. The cat was hurt and nothing it can do except meowed!

Seriously, it would be nice if Mr. Van Illogical just directly shoot the damn kitty! The world will be much peaceful.

Road Trip

2009-06-05T15:54:00.002+07:00

I lay in my bed. A guitar beside my head. I enjoy silence for a while. Then suddenly the front door’s opened. Footsteps going upstairs rush and hastily. Crowd at instant.
“Hello...!”,
“Hi...!”,
“Assalamu’alaikum...!”

I heard three words flying and shouting at the same time. One boy jumped directly into my bed. “I hate your shirt,” he said. I just smile. One guy went straight to the pile of my books. “Still reading these craps?” he said. I just nodded. One man unhesitantly strangled my neck. “Hei, chubby boy!”. This time I resent these words. “Not anymore,” I said.

A road trip. They picked me up and drag me to an event. Never cross in my mind I have a chance to go east with them…., together! They are the fruit, the milk, and the doctor’s pill for my life. Not usually come and gathered in the same time. Simply because I put them in different circle. I was eager to know how the situations turn-out to be. The three best people in my life are there. It is one among a rare moments when I think about “happy”.

***

So I turn on my CD Player
Singer: Jason Mraz (again!)
Title: Song to a Friend
Album: Mr. A to Z
A thumb.
Play!
And it rewinds that moment again…

“Well you're magic,” he said
“But don't let it all go to your head…,
Coz I bet if you all had it all figured out,
Then you'd never get out of bed!”

No doubt
All the thing's that I've read what he wrote me
Is now sounding like the man I was hoping to be
Keep on keeping it real
Cause it keeps getting easier indeed
He's the reason that I'm laughing
Even if there's no one else
He said, “You've got to love yourself”

You say, “You shouldn't mumble when you speak…,
But keep your tongue up in your cheek…!
And if you stumble on to,
You better remember that it's humble that you seek
You got all the skill you need,
Individuality
You got something
Call it gumption
Call it anything you want
Because when you play the fool now
You're only fooling everyone else
You're learning to love yourself”

Yes you are

There's no price to pay
When you give and what you take,
That's why it's easy to thank you
You...

Let's say take a break from the day
And get back to the old garage
Because life's too short anyway
But at least it's better then average
As long as you got me
And I got you
You know we'll got a lot to go around…!
I'll be your friend
Your other brother
Another love to come and comfort you

And I'll keep reminding
If it's the only thing I ever do
I will always love
I will always love you
Yes youI will always, always, always, always love
I will always, always love
I will always, always love, love

Climb up over the top.
Survey the state of the soul.
You've got to find out for yourself whether or not you're truly trying.
Why not give it a shot?
Shake it.
Take control and inevitably wind up
Find out for yourself all the strengths you have inside of you.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)

2009-06-02T19:02:00.004+07:00

Why, Mr. Anderson? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Yes? No? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. The temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning of purpose.

[Agent Smith, The Matrix Revolution]

Q : Why should I fight..? Why should I feel sadness..? Why should I think..? Why should I feel in an ordeal..?
A : “Do men imagine that they will be left (at ease) because they say, ‘We believe’, and will not be tested with affliction? Lo! We tested those who were before you. Thus Allah Knoweth those who are sincere, and Knoweth those who feign.” (QS. Al-Ankabut [The Spider], 2-3)

Q : If that so, why it feels so heavy? Is life supposed to be this hard?
A : “Allah Tasketh not a soul beyond its scope…”(QS. Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 286)

Q : But why even something felt good and joyful in life is prohibited? Why I’m not allowed to drink? Why I’m not allowed to gossip? Why I’m not allowed to mock, even for once?
A : “..but it may happen that ye hate a thing which is good for you, and it may happen that ye love a thing which is bad for you. Allah Knoweth, ye know not.” (QS. Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 216)

Q : Is it okay for me to have a nervous breakdown sometimes? It just felt too much. It’s overrated.
A : “Faint not nor grieve, for ye will overcome them if ye are (indeed) believers.” (QS. Ali-Imran [Imramites], 139)

Q : Should I lose any hope?
A : “…And despair not of the Mercy of Allah. Lo! None despareth of the Mercy of Allah except disbelieving folk.” (QS. Yusuf [Joseph], 87)

Q : Then how should I face this life?
A : “O ye who believe! Endure, outdo all others in endurance, be ready, and observe your duty to Allah, in order that ye may succeed.” (QS. Ali-Imran [Imramites], 200)

Q : But I’m alone..! No one around. Am I able to live this life?
A : “…Say, ‘Allah Sufficeth me’. There is no God except Him. In Him have I put my trust, and He is Lord of the Tremendous Throne.” (QS. At-Taubah [Ultimatum]: 129)

Q : How to reach Him? I cant even see Him?
A : “Seek help in patience and prayer, and truly it is hard except for the humble-minded” (QS. Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 45)

Q : What will I get after all this things?
A : “Lo! Allah Hath Bought from the believers their lives and their wealth because the Garden will be theirs…” (QS. Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 111)

Q : Is it a promise? a certainty?
A : “…It IS a promise which is binding on Him in the Torah and the Gospel and the Quran. Who Fulfilleth His Covenant better than Allah? Rejoice them in your bargain that ye have made, for that is the supreme triumph.” (QS. Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 111)

Somehow, sometimes, I know, the answers are there...

I just never listened...

She's X...!!!

2009-05-29T11:30:00.010+07:00

If someone asks me where is my home…, then I automatically think about her. Of course, I will say some address eventually, whether it’s my mom’s in bandung or my small room in this small town. But I’m not the host there. So after being hospitalized for almost 2 weeks, I’m so excited. She’s back. My Copper Light Car…!

I have no intention of bragging. (Well, a bit…, but consider it like a mom who’s saying some good things about her son, that he’s so clever blablabla, regardless all the opposite facts). It’s her “birthday” now. And just like a baby, I have to wait her for about 8 months (imagine!) before I got her. What a long indent time for a car.

I fell in love in the third sight. Blame my boss! She’s the one who took the same car to the office. A CBU Silky Silver X-Over. The first time I see the car is when I went to a car-exhibition in Turkey. I was shocked knowing that SX4 is one of the best design cars there. But I agree. I think it’s small, sporty, and compact. And by the time I went back to the office, apparently, my boss chatting around about her car. It’s her husband car, she said. But really fun to drive, and addictive, she added. After that, I put a detail attention to her car in a parking area. I sense the security officer put an eye on me, figuring that I try to steal that car, but I was not pretty much care...(hehe). The third time, my boss ride me home, I saw the interior. I think it’s simple, elegant, yet has such great features. And it works like a charm. I want it! I dream about it! And you know my mental illness, right? If I want something, I try everything to get it! And last year, alhamdulillah, my dream is come true…, made my 8 months waiting so much worth it.

I got so many questions about why I chose her among any other car. So here are my answers…, maybe sounds tendentious, but I bet if you know, you would buy it too…

1. Brand. It’s SUZUKI. “Why don’t you buy a more “high-class” and “prestige” brand?” My fussy friend always annoys me about it. I say, “I’m not a brand-minded guy. If you give me Debenhams’s suit, or Dolce-Gabbana’s shoes to me…, it’s like giving a colour TV to a blind man.” So, I don’t care if X-Over is not a Honda or Toyota or European car brand. But I can tell you. The price is quite economical compare to the same benefit we got from other brand. And after all, I like the letter S. As in Superman or Spiderman or just simply… Sexy…! Haha!

2. Exterior. Maybe it is claimed as the first “cross-over” (between SUV and MPV) in Indonesia, but I could care less. The most important is, it looks really sporty, yet elegant at the same time. Don’t try to compare it with Toyota Yaris, because I think it’s really ugly with a big fat “blendung” shape. And Jazz…, I just think it’s too sweet too girly and has a low ground clearance. If you go to someone’s home in bekasi, I bet Jazz would have a bad time and comeback with a great scratch and wound under. X-Over has 16” tire. Enough to handle high “polisi tidur” and broken road scattered around this town. Viewed from the front, the SX4 looks like a mid-sized sedan. Only when you go around to the side, you would realize this is a high-clearance, compact hatchback. At 4,135mm in length and 1,755mm wide, the SX4 isn’t going to take up too much space in your porch or outside your gate, and is a breeze to manoeuvre.

3. Interior. I like a simple, elegant, and firm shape of dashboard. Unlike Jazz who has so much knick-knacks and “abg-banget”. The cabin is quite large and wide. Internal space has been well thought out, and both the front and rear seats feel spacious and comfortable. There’s no arm console for the driver, although the glove box and door pockets provide ample storage. And if you notice, driver and passenger’s position is just like riding a sedan. The seat is fine. No need to add leather cover. I like the driver seat. It hugs and covers my body fitly. I can sleep well there. It is easy for driver to operate instrument panel. There’re three cylindrical meter cluster right in the back of steerwheel, completed by compact warning sign (including seat belt usage and door-lock). The red light is really beautiful. Love it!

4. Audio-System. One local magazine, state that SX4 has the best audio. And I EXTREMELY agree with it. Other cars are out of league. The sound is just incredible, as if you have your own home theatre there. I like to turn it on so loudly when I’m riding alone. No need to add subwoofer. It can play AM/FM/MP3/WMA with 8 speakers (eight! try that!) and also auto volume control which will adjust along with the speed’s changing. And it has steering wheel integrated audio controls…, a fancy name for a steering wheel which has buttons to control the audio system. It's really an indulgence for the driver, although in SX4, it’s not equipped with remote control…, a buzz for back passengers.

5. Features. Like I said, this car is very economical for a car with so many features. I didn’t expect it at the first time, but I consider it as a bonus. SX4 is equipped by keyless entry with immobilizer which makes it impossible to turn on the car without the specific key with certain code embedded in it. Stolen-proof? Maybe, but people get smarter every time, so I still buy a steer-lock for the leather-encased steering wheel. First click in the key remote, only open the driver door. Second click will open the passenger door. A nice system. In addition, cabin’s lamp turn-off fading. So when we enter the car, the lamp is still on, giving a chance for us to do things in better light before start driving. In few seconds, it’s fading off. Smart car! The rear-view mirror is retractable. I know, I’m cheesy…hehe, since so many cars have it also…, but hey, it still an advantage, rite? Other usual features are multi-reflector halogen headlamp, front fog lamps, intermittent rear wiper with electric washer and rear combination lamps, the steering spoke, external temperature gauge, roof rails, electromagnetic tailgate opener, and a 50l fuel tank.

6. Fuel Consumption. We can recognize the fuel consumption in MID (muti-information display) in the middle of dashboard which also shows outside temperature. We can check the average consumption and the on-going consumption, and it’s resetable. In average, the consumption is about 12 km/L. It could be higher if I only take the highway. Quite frugal, rite? (okay, maybe jazz is better for this thing).

7. Safety. I think SX4 inventor has put safety in first priority. It can be seen by the instalment of Dual SRS(Supplement Restrain System)-Airbags, which automatically blown in driver and passenger if there’s any collision. TECT Body, light and compact, able to redeem and distribute energy because of collision. SX4 is also equipped by child proof rear door lock, something I knew after almost a year I ride it. I can imagine bringing my children in my car in few next years now.

8. Machine. Last, but one of the most important is the machine itself. The five-door SX4 comes with a four-cylinder, 16-valve, 1.6l engine, uses machine with 1500 cc capacity VVT DOHC, able to generate maximum power 100 ps/6.000 and torque 133 Nm/4.000 rpm. I can’t compare it with other car, since I never drive any other car than my brothers Pajero. And I’m too afraid to drive my friend’s car. I’m not a great driver, especially if aBy is my passenger. It’s like having a driving-instructor along the journey. (haha, no offense). But if people say jazz is fun to drive, than I can make sure you’ll like to drive x-over. You cannot feel how the speed is already reaching 140 km/hr because it’s so smooth and stable. The steering is smooth and very responsive, so getting around tight corners or taking bends is a pretty effortless affair. The car itself feels pretty light and nimble. When you push down on the gas pedal, the acceleration is more civil and smooth than surging. Like my boss said, it’s addictive. I think driving is my new hobby now.

About the color, I chose the Copper-Light one. Seriously, it’s the best color for a car. And by statistic, it has the lowest record of accident. It’s a fading orange-red-chocolate. In the daylight, the car looks orange. But at night, the car looks so red. I like it most at the evening, right before the sun goes down. The gradual-color orange-red is really beautiful. It’s bright, yet really calm.

So, the bottom line, SX4 is great and has good value for money. I’m neither an advertiser nor a dealer, but I do really love this car. My friends are maybe almost vomiting if I talk about how great she is. But I repeat ut again..., weighing in all factors, I found the SX4 to be a thoroughly enjoyable drive. It has the sort of all-round appeal that won’t dim with the years. Seriously...!

Bruised Ego

2009-05-27T12:18:00.002+07:00

I did some mistakes. I know that, and I don’t have any intention to repeat it. Not when I fully conscious that it’s a mistake. So everytime my boss or anyone come to me and say this line, “Can I trust you to do this right?”…, my ego is starting to bruise. I learnt my lessons. No need other people to questioning. When someone put a trust on me, I totally try my best not to let it slip from my hand. And when someone hesitate about me, I keep try my best to show them that they’re wrong, although my pride is a little bit wounded. And trust me, it’s not a good feeling. And sometimes our energy is sucked-out by those unnecessary feeling.

***

As an INFJ, I listened a lot. And I like it. But when the time comes that I’m the one who do the talk, it takes me less than one minute in most cases to make the decision about whether I’m being appreciated. If I'm talking to someone and (s)he can't maintain eye contact or focus on what I'm saying, I politely end the conversation. Maybe my ego is bruised easily. But, the bottom line is, there is no point in trying to build a relationship nor extend another opportunity to do so. I have to respect myself. I just move on. I'm fine without them. In some cases, when I do really care about them…, I really try so hard to do what they like. Forgetting the expectation that they would listen and just being happy when they’re happy. Of course, I would really do the self-contemplating, fear that I’m such a boring or unimportant person. And I know (and I hope), every now and then someone will make an effort to show they're worthy, apologize, reach out and let me know they can do better, but that's rare. They are people who I love to give my full affection and attention.

***

I called someone I never see in some quite time few nights ago. A part because I feel a lil’ bit worry about him since the last time we talk he looks miserable and sniffed cry. A part because I just have an urge to have a chat with him. This is the time when I put aside an ego and focus on his condition. But, it’s not like what I expected. Well, I’m grateful that he sounds cheery and joyful, as usual, but a part when he mocked me about how I spend my weekends doing cleaning by reading the previous post in my blog, my ego is just alarmed. Yes, I'm aloof. But I don't need other people to say that I'm aloof. Okay, sometimes I get lonely. But I don’t need other people to say that I’m lonely. Asking? Fine. But Accusing? Not cool. Especially from one you expect to understand…, to fill up the gap, not to mock the flaw.

***

Being professional and being cool is such a similar. They don’t include personal emotion into their dictionary. So not me. So, being professional and being cool is an act of pretending for me. Put another personality and just being another me. It’s a success for most of the time. Still, I find my ego bruised after I passed through the door of my room.

For practical reasons I am sometimes forced to make a pep talk, maintain a contact with someone because (s)he can get me what I want or need. Oh, yes, there's a place for that. Is it cruel? Well, I think it’s a reality that I realize some people do the same to me. But for me, the trick is to be clear about the reason for the relationship, yet still sincere in one's dealings. Although sometimes it’s just my effort to save my ego from getting bruised.

Insomnia

2009-05-25T18:46:00.007+07:00

The most anxious moment, for me, is when you can't get sleep because of unexplainable thing in your head and heart. And then you go through the night in silence. Thus, by the dawn came from the east, finally you can get your eyes relaxed...

And the saddest moment is..., when you wake up in the morning..., and find yourself in tears.

Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming
Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights
Oh, how I long for the deep sleep dreaming
The goddess of imaginary light

[Evanescense, Imaginary]

Boys Talk

2009-05-22T11:31:00.004+07:00

A bright night. I just had a nice dinner with my housemate when apparently both of us didn’t bring any key and, by God’s hand, the door was locked. So we decided to sit right in front the door on the step’s stair. Its floor was warm, while the evening wind a bit cold. A great combination. No wonder there’s so many people do picnic in the front of the house.

So I called another housemate who works in the same company also and fortunately stay away in his room to open the door. So there’re three of us…, ‘til another friend just came home from somewhere, and joined the club. So, four boys sitting right in the mouth of the door, accidentally bump in the same place at the same time. Four little men accountable for four different factories in the same company have an informal meeting…! Well, a chat is more likely true…

The one who just came home open the conversation… As usual, in “whining”-mode.

A : Haahhh…, calon gw baru nelpon. Ngomelin gw…
B : Emang lu salah apa?
C : Tar, calon majikan maksud lo?
D : *mesem-mesem*
A : Calon istri la. Emang gw apaan?
C : Maksudnya mantan calon istri kan? Lo kan uda ga direstui sama bapaknye.
B : Mungkin dia masih menikmati status calon suami ampe calon istrinya uda gelar kawinan. Tul ga, Po?
A : Yah, terserah deh. Hidup emang berat. Sirik gw ama si Kem, serasa lancar jaya idupnya. Lulus, kerja, punya mobil, punya rumah, nikah ama cewe sekampung yang kebetulan cewe se-sma-nya. Eh, dia temen sma-nya kan Do?
D : *ngangguk-ngangguk*
C : Tapi bersyukur lo, masih ada yang perhatian ama lo. Calon lu dijodohin doang kan ama orang yang lebih kaya? Atinye kan masi ama lo. Buktinya masi nelpon.
B : Iya. Lu-nya aja yang perjuangannya ga pol. Dianya juga jadi ragu-ragu. ilfil. Ngomelin lu deh.
A : Bukan itu. Dia nyuruh gw ngaji. Gw kan ngajinya biasanya hari minggu. Tapi dia denger suara-suara musik waktu gw di jalan tadi pas abis isa.
B : Dudu. Disuruh ngaji aja bete.
C : Iya. Lu uda ga ok di masalah kekayaan, masa’ ga ok juga masalah agama? Apa yang bisa lo tawarin coba ke calon bini lo?
B : Haha. Lo nunjuk ke diri lo sendiri ya, Boy?
C : Yah, gitulah... Tau aja lo.
D : *ngakak*

Someone take a guitar and humming,

It takes no time to fall in love

But it takes you years to know what love is

And it takes some fears to make you trust

It takes those tears to make it rust

It takes the dust to have it polished
A…lalalala...life is wonderful...
A...lalalala…life goes full circle…
(Jason Mraz, Life is wonderful)

C : Yang aneh tuh lo. Uda punya apartemen di Jakarta, uda punya rumah di bandung, uda mau beli di sini juga. Nunggu apa lagi lu? Kapan kawinnya coba...
B : Wuah, berlebihan lo. Duit darimana, Bang???
C : Amiin, gituh. Omongan gw kan doa.
B : Haha. Aamiin...
A : Dikit-dikit lah semuanya dijabanin. Pertama, beli gentong dulu. Kedua, isi tuh gentong pake beras. Baru dah, beli motor sendiri. Terus beli tanah kalo uda punya. Eh, tau ga, tanah seluas itu tuh (tangan menunjuk ke pekarangan luas di depan rumah), cuma 150 juta di kampung. Udah bisa miara ayam, bikin peternakan sapi di sebelahnya, terus kolam renang dah.
C : Iya ya. Di sini uda setengah milyaran tanah segitu. Nah, lu ngekost aja di kota. Bisnis di kampung.
B : Terus pensiun dini ya. Hehe. Gw mau tuh pensiun umur 35. Boleh tak?
D : Pada ngayal lu pada.
C : Eh, boy, ini life planning namanya. Yang pasti, target gw, umur 40 gw uda punya segalanya.
A : Kagak bisa lah. Asli ngimpi.
B : Nah, kalo umur 40 dapet segalanya, abis itu lo mau ngapain lagi? Tinggal mati dong? Hehe.
C : Maksud gw, segalanya tu dapet fasilitas yang cukup buat idup. Rumah lunas, transportasi tersedia, perabotan ada. Nah, tinggal mikirin keluarga aja umur 40. Anak mo sekolah dimana, mau diajak jalan-jalan kemana. Gitu, Pak! Biar urusan duit ga jadi ganjelan lagi.
A : Terus mikirin buat mati ya.
A-B-C-D : *ngangguk-ngangguk*

Poverty stole your golden shoes

It didn't steal your laughter

And heartache came to visit me

But I knew it wasn't ever after

We'll fight, not out of spite

For someone must stand up for what's right

(Jewel, Hands)

A : Lu kan orang Padang. Bikin bisnis apa lah. Ajakin kita.
B : Lah, dia kan padang dapet gen pelitnya doang. Insting dagangnya ga nurun. Haha.
C : Iya, gw pinter irit-nya doang. Noh, si Do juga orang padang.
A : Oh, lu orang padang juga ya? Ga ketauan.
D : Iya. *nyengir*
B : Ketauan lah, Po! Namanya aja uda padang. Coba si boy ini, namanya sunda banget. Untungnya ditempelin nama marga di imelnya. Kalo ga, ga ketauan dia padang.
C : Yah, sengaja gw. Biar diaku orang padang.
D : Haha. Gw aja yang namanya padang ga ngerti basa minang.
B : Serius? Sayang bener. Padahal gw seneng denger orang padang ngomong. Blugudug blugudug…, gitu bunyinya.
C : Ah, elo. Belon denger aja gw ngomong ama emak. Alus banget tuh.
A : Eh, marga itu dari emak ya?
C : Iya. Marga lu apa, ngemeng-ngemeng?
D : Tanjung.
B : Wah, ga asik. Kerenan marga dia. Sikumbang. Ya, ga, boy?
C : Yo-a. Tapi pas gw kenalan ama gengnya ajup, si wawan anak sunda tu ga mau kalah. lebih canggih lagi marganya. Pas gw bilang nama gw cek-cek sikumbang…, dia bilang namanya…
A-B-D : *muka menunggu*
C : …Wawan Sitampan…
A-B-C-D : huahaha…..

And we laugh ‘til we sense that the stars quite shaking in our eyes…
And one pull another string…

When the daylight's gone…, and you're on your own

And you need a friend…, just to be around

I will comfort you…, I will take your hand

And I'll pull you through, I will understand

And you know that…I'll be at your side,

there's no need to worry

Together we'll survive through the haste and hurry
(The Corrs, At Your Side)

Love The People You’re With…

2009-05-18T18:59:00.003+07:00

“(How much more seemly) had they been content with that which Allah and His messenger had given them and said: Allah Sufficeth us. Allah Will Give us His Bounty, and (also) His messenger. Unto Allah we are suppliants.”
(QS. At-Taubah [Ultimatum], 59)

It is called Qana’ah. When we try to have a fair acceptance into anything we have right now. When we feel enough. Not because we are self-sufficient. But because we know Allah Sufficeth us. And to Him, we put our greatest hope.

Something I have forgotten almost every time….

I read Jadid Hayataka (‘Refurbish Your Life’) yesterday. Randomly open a page and there it is. A word about qanaah. And I’m a believer… that somehow in somekind of magic way, my Beneficent God Showed me that. A key of happiness. Simple word, yet so hard to grip.

While walking in a week of unstable financial and doubtful relationships, it really hit me to the bottom. Who are we, wanting so much more than what we already have? Who are we, forcing to get something which unworthy to fight for? We are really ungrateful creatures here… Well, maybe only me…, not us….

As somebody said to me, “Didn’t you have everything?”. I understand her context, but still I deniably said, “No body has everything in this world.” While actually what she meant maybe, “hold your complain, stop whining, embrace and cherish what you have now. You can be happy and as satisfied as a thirsty man after he drunk”.

I know, I still can rent a small room in a cozy environment for a place to rest. I have a small vehicle which I consider as my first home now. I still can afford to buy some decent foods and water. I own a bunch of books and a few gadgets which help me through the day. Doesn’t it enough? Am I too greedy to buy unnecessary stuffs and abundant foods? Am I overly ambitious if I took a loan for a house in one place and another house in other place?

How about people? Although some relationships are shattered and tumbling down, I still have my biological family and people whom I considered as my family. I still have my mom, my brothers and sisters. I still have my lovely nephews and niece. I still have great colleagues’ growing pains. I still have a nice housemate who’s willing to drive me back-and-forth to the office and I can talk to after a long day. I still have a dinner-friend who really “click” with me talking about politics, games, movie, lifestyle, and human-character. And surely, I still have a mentor who almost always knows the answer although sometimes it’s hard to revive his suggestions. Doesn’t it enough? Am I lack of affection that I still expect people beside them to have regular contacts with me? Am I too demanding to expect people in far distance, miles even across the country, to have a chat with me?

Love everything you have now…
Love every people you’re with now…
And if there’s nothing or no one around you now…, you still can love yourself…, AND your god. Then He Will Suffice you. .

How often I try to sink those words inside my mind. So I don’t need to cling myself into a job just because I want the money. So I don’t need to look so far or to pick a phone to fill-up my everyday life...

--in a struggle to be an optimist person about oneself--

Obsolete

2009-05-15T18:23:00.004+07:00

I wonder why “cleaning” is kinda therapeutic. No need to have drugs or needles to make you high. Lately however, with my less than desirable work-hours, my non-existent social life and the absolute lack of interesting places in a 20 km radius, “cleaning” is an alternative activity I love so much in the weekend. Certainly the small town that I live in has its obvious limits. So Saturday morning? It’s my regular time of my “therapeutic moment” before any other tiring activities.

As always, it’s started by swimming at six. Yeah, I know. It’s so early that no one willing to accompany me except my housemate…, who is known as the early bird in the office. Then I’ll start the routine from eight a.m., a nice time to wash the lovely-but-filthy car, since I never clean her everyday. And an hour after that, my room became the next victim. Last Saturday is a big massacre. I’m pulling all stuff inside-out. Something I never do since I lived here six months ago. It’s STOCK-TAKE time…!! Wuhui…, I like it. It feels good when you know that you HAVE something.

So I opened my inventory data. Books, CD’s, Gadgets, Shoes, Cloths, and other Knick-Knacks which I claim as MY POSSESSION…. (…somehow I feel like Qarun or even Gollum when I do this thing…). Of course, there’s also some stuffs which are not mine but already been here even as long as I live here. Doncoss’s, Bustan’s & Bram’s books, Dayat’s & Amir’s swimming trunks, Bang Asan’s, Adhi’s, and my boss’s DVDs, Wishnu’s tennis racket, Aul’s blanket… (…oh, my…, this room has turn-out to be a concierge here…). One cannot believe, I found 700 thou rupiahs as a bookmark in joko pinurbo’s “kepada cium” poetry book. And I found the picture I lost in khaled abou el fadl’s book, “musyawarah buku”. Wow…!

From this point, there’s an urge I can’t denied. I’m a rubbish keeper. You get it, rite? Of course, in every cleaning process and even inventory session, there must be stuff you do not need anymore, or stuff that simply has been broken and unusable. THAT is the problem. It’s hard for me to throw those stuffs. For so many unreasonable excuses. I still kept so many stickers and souvenirs I got from BOBO magazine. And I still kept a broken watch, snowball, chemical vials (haha!) containing bunch of letters from my junior high school graduation, a set of tiny robots and also two dolls (dolls! Can you imagine? one is elephant, other one is small panda. They can say something too!). All because I think I have to preserve my friend’s gifts. Not to mention photos and letters. I put them all in one full packaging. At the lowest drawer.

One of my friends tried to act as psychologist. He said that this is unhealthy. I’m clinging to the past. Too afraid to let go. Unable to face the fact that people can lose something. I said to him, “Haha. I can face losing. But I will try my best to keep what I have from losing. Not like people…, dead things are easier to preserve.”

I think this is a mental issue for every collector. And maybe, one of the reason “cleaning” become very therapeutic is because I can see those things from my past. Knowing that I’ve been in so many things, so many moments, so many places. No matter how obsolete the reminder thing is.

So tomorrow is another Saturday.... Another therapeutic moment? Well, yes…, but not cleaning again. My car is hospitalized and my room is still as tidy as last week. Buying some groceries? Nope, I’ve done that yesterday. So I think about being lazy and catch up some light reading. Well, not really “light”. I’m thinking about “Winnetau II” and Sutardjo’s “Psikologi Abnormal”. And I haven’t finished Pamuk’s “Snow” anyway. Yes, maybe I’ll pick them for tomorrow lazy day. (Boss, if you read this, which I hope not. Please…, don’t give me a homework this time…)

Lunatic Moment

2009-05-13T18:27:00.004+07:00

Okay guys. Let's have some lunatic moment right now. Maybe I’m an INFJ, but still I have so much sense of humour. In my own terms maybe. So let me tell you some crazy episodes in my life. It’s not a part which I’m the one who did the stupid things…. It’s a part when I listened someone saying something due to slippery tongue or just simply…fun…! I said funny in my own term, because it might not funny for you. And I cannot write it in english, so take it as it is…

Conello Room. During interview for D3 recrutment.
me : jadi kenapa berhenti dari pekerjaan lama?
him : kan terpengaruh krisis global pak.
me : oh, memang krisis apa itu?
him : yang pasti gara2 krisis global warming itu, banyak orang yang jadinya di-phk pak...
me : ?%$%^@

***

Meeting Room. Observing my supervisor do the briefing (more like “hard” warning) to her sub-ordinates after some quite incidents. So the ambience is quite spooky for them.
her : ini adalah industri makanan. tidak bisa disamakan dengan dengan industri kacang.
me and my thought : (kacang bukannya makanan ya?)
her : setiap sentuhan tangan ke mesin itu jadi jalur masuknya kontaminasi. Apalagi kalau tangannya setelah dipakai untuk pegang lantai atau baru keluar dari toilet tanpa cuci tangan. ini adalah habitat-habitat yang tidak baik.
me and my thought : (oh, my… I should brief her first about some english idiom. She’s old enough indeed. But I have to spare her the humility in front of her subordinates and not to make serious occasion become laughable.)

***

Mixing Plant. Looking at a new chilled room. A locked room I used to put the raw materials which needs low temperature, about 1-5oC. I noticed that there’s no visual control there. So, I instruct one of my subordinate to place a signage there.
The day after, I notice a signage there. So big and so “cruel” til it makes me laugh really hard while it reminds me to concentration camp made by NAZI. It says….

CHILD ROOM

You’re Drifting Further Away…

2009-05-12T18:15:00.005+07:00

In a day when we call it a birthday…
You should have been in the crowd…
Even tough the noise is only made by one person who whisper you a “hi”

Silence… is not always golden
Ignorance… is not always bliss
It makes people fade…
Slowly…
Fade…

Don't go too deep into the flood

Don't wade too long, you'll poison my love

Don't shut me out, don't hold it all in

Don't let my venom get under your skin

'Cause every word and every turn

Every sign points to your hurt

With every hour you’re drifting further away

Forgiveness… is not there when there’s silent treatment
Acceptance… is not there when there’s no care

Come make your peace, come find your way

Come lay your wreath at the alter of change

Don't lose your step, don't break the bones

Don't shoulder the burden out there on your own

'Cause every word and every turn

Every sign points to your hurt

With every hour you’re drifting further away

# : Why can't you mind your own business? What is your problem?

$ : You're my only brother. You're my family. So even though you’re wrong, I’m stick with you. Could care less what people say.
# : I’m sorry.

Don't banish me then bid me home

Then tell me where I came undone

Don't harbour love like it's all your own

Then linger over what you've done

Don't sink underneath the weight of

when you're trying to carry way too much

And you never should have let go

You could have joined in the whole show

I never should have let go

# : Don’t worry. No problem at all. Take it easy.
$ : (so I guess I really screwed up this time, and I don’t know why. May He Gives the best for you…)

'Cause every word and every turn

Every sign points to your hurt

With every hour you're drifting further away....

(Powderfinger, drifting further away)

Recurring The Time

2009-05-08T15:46:00.012+07:00

While reorganized files in my notebook, here I found a very long rhyme I wrote centuries ago... It is a perfect time to write it here... For the last time...

aku bertanya kepadamu, apakah gudang rumahmu disewakan untuk orang yang tak jelas alamatnya seperti aku? tapakku cuma gema puisi. terseret dari sepi ke sepi. merepih setiap harapan yang teronggok sunyi. kulihat siluet api kecil yang berloncat-loncatan dari sumbu lilin di meja ruang tamumu, dan bunyi goresan pena kasar di atas kertas. kuduga engkau menulis sebuah kisah..., kelanjutan tentang manusia yang mencintai sepotong jalan. kisahmu!

"tidak! bukankah setiap rumah pasti ada gudang? karena di sanalah segala sisa disimpan. dicari, dibuka, dan dibersihkan saat diperlukan... disimpan lagi jika sudah tak terpakai"

aku bertanya kepadamu, apakah teras rumahmu bisa dipinjamkan untuk orang yang telanjang seperti aku? aku mau mendengar goresanmu berdongeng dan membuatku terpejam. dimanakah sepotong jalan yang kaucintai? bayangku berimaji tentang setapak indah. hanya ada sungai dan bunga. diliput udara segar dan bercahaya.

"tidak! kau begitu asyik dengan penamu. tentu jalan itu sejarak tebalnya goresan pena itu. sempit, hitam, penuh kelokan. dan tak ada tempat untuk musafir sepertiku"

aku mau mengajakmu bepergian. aku mau ceritakan, perjalananku dari gunung ke gunung, dari ragu ke ragu, dari jemu ke jemu. sesat di hutan pertanyaan yang entah sejak kapan merimbun dalam ingatan. supaya kau tahu, betapa jalanku demikian menyesakkan.

"tidak! pena itu terus bergerak. karena cinta. pada sepotong jalan itu... bukan jalan setapakku."

aku mau mengajakmu sekadar bersalaman. memisahkan jemarimu dari pena itu. mengangkat matamu untuk mencerna keberadaanku. saat itu..., bolehkah aku menginap di gudangmu...? kalau perlu, aku akan mencintai yang kamu cintai. jalan itu...! tak peduli betapa berbedanya yang ada dengan imajiku...

--- berusaha memahami arti sebuah kekaguman...

terima kasih... atas sebalut kain dan sepasang mata yang menerima. adakah gudang ini memang dibuat untukku? segolongan sisa dan residu? serupa sarang laba-laba dan sebotol madu yang kausimpan tahun lalu.

syukurlah, hanya bertutup kelambu yang dapat kusingkapkan untuk melihatmu. aku cukup bahagia... mampu lebih dari sekadar mendengar goresan penamu.

"tapi mengapa gudang ini begitu dingin? hanya ini yang aku keluhkan..."

terima kasih... telah kaulepaskan pena dari jemari itu. akan kuramaikan dengan kisahku. tentang seorang bocah tanpa langkah tuju.

aku mengaku. kamu adalah ketidaksengajaan yang menarik. aku berbelok karenamu. duduk..., menunggu..., dan mencerap setiap goresan penamu yang kian lama mendesakku masuk dalam halaman buku itu. tergores. membelit kisahku dan kisahmu.

"percayalah. aku mampu mencintai. menjadi ekor dari sepotong jalan yang kaucintai...! tapi bolehkah aku bertanya, sebenarnya kemanakah jalan ini menuju?"

--- berusaha memahami arti sebuah keterikatan...

pegang aku. jalanan ini tidak semulus yang aku duga. imaji indah tentang setapak hijau dan burung yang perlahan terbang hilang seketika... musnah semuanya... --kecuali kamu!

"jangan lepaskan! aku limbung tanpa kawan. dadaku sesak disaput awan hitam. bergoyang antara cemas dan kekhawatiran..."

pandang aku. matamu menyimpan siluet indah tentang anak-anak yang bermain riang di perpustakaan tanpa tuan. wajahmu menyemburat kenangan manis tentang kelahiran dan kebahagiaan. senyummu menyejukkan. semujarab racikan daun mayang yang ditumbuk bersama kelopak mawar.

"jangan berpaling! kita masih mampu berjalan tanpa melihat jauh ke depan. aku adalah matamu. gunakan aku!"

takut itu teredam karenamu. dibenamkan lebih dalam dari akar tanaman. tersimpan baik-baik dalam diam hingga perlahan menumbuhkan keberanian. satu sandal yang kuperlukan untuk menapak sunyinya jalan. sepotong jalan yang kamu (dan aku) cintai...! kuharap...

--berusaha memahami sebuah kebersamaan

aku hilang..., apakah ada yang mempertanyakan???

kosong!
"hei, dimana kamu? jalan ini begitu panjang. jangan tinggalkan aku. setidaknya..., beritahu aku, kemana kita menuju?!... "

--berusaha memahami arti sebuah kehilangan

aku selalu hadir..., meski tidak datang

suatu hari nanti ketika aku mati...
apakah aku bisa mengetahui hakikat sepi?
atas kepentingan siapa ia mendera dan menyiksaku tiada henti??

suatu hari nanti setelah aku mati...
apakah sepi akan berhenti mengikuti?
sedang mataku sudah lelah mengair dan mengalir....

"aku ingin berhenti berjalan. sendirian. apatah lagi aku tidak tahu apa yang ada di ujung jalan..."

--berusaha memahami arti sebuah kesepian

aku pulang. sepotong jalan ini terlalu lengang untuk diarungi sendirian. aku tidak mengerti bagaimana kau bisa mencintainya begitu dalam. semuanya terasa tidak masuk akal. bukankah yang kaudapat hanya lelah dan kaki yang pecah-pecah? lalu kenapa kau masih bisa tersenyum senang?

"jangan menertawaiku! aku bodoh, aku tahu! tapi kau terlalu sombong untuk sekadar membisikkan sesuatu yang kau tahu di ujung jalan itu...."

aku pulang. kau adalah satu-satunya alasan. aku tidak bersedia berjalan lagi saat kau memutuskan untuk hilang kemudian. kau bilang ada zat yang mahabesar di ujung jalan. kau katakan, ia akan menghilangkan segala derita kehilangan dan kesepian. itukah alasan mengapa kau mencintai sepotong jalan ini? tapi jika ia mahabesar, kenapa tidak terlihat sekarang saat aku berdiri, berputar, dan memandang?

"apa kau tidak malu terbahak-bahak seperti itu? oke, aku tolol, aku sadar! tapi kau terlalu angkuh untuk menjelaskan latar belakang kenapa kau selalu tertawa senang. bagaimana aku bisa sepertimu jika aku tidak tahu apa yang ada di pikiranmu?"

kau semakin menghilang dan aku semakin ketakutan. kau berkata kalau aku tidak membutuhkan kamu. aku tolak dengan gelengan. kau berteriak kalau yang di ujung jalanlah yang aku butuhkan. aku balas dengan tangisan. dan kau benar-benar tidak mendengarkan....

"sudah! pergi saja! kau benar..., aku masih bernafas tanpa ada kamu..."

dulu..., aku pernah berucap. aku percaya kamu... (kini pun masih!). tapi untuk bisa berjalan ke ujung jalan itu, aku harus melupakanmu! karena setiap ingatan tentang dirimu menyerang, seketika aku ingin pulang. kenangan adalah musuh perjalanan. jika aku ingin menemui zat di ujung jalan itu, dialah yang harus kurindukan... bukan kamu..., bukan yang lainnya...

--berusaha memahami arti sebuah keikhlasan

seringkali, tidur adalah cara termudah untuk melupakan...

bahkan dalam tidur, aku masih bermimpi tentangmu...
tentang jalan itu... dan tentang sebuah pilihan....

--berusaha memahami arti sebuah dilema

aku memutuskan, maka aku ada...

di jalan ini..., keringat adalah deras yang tak terbendung. bahkan mimpi adalah beban yang sama seperti saat mengangkat kelopak mata. keduanya melihat fragmen kemunafikan, episode kebangkitan dan kejatuhan, babak perjuangan dan pertempuran. keduanya merasakan dingin dan panasnya aspal. tidak ada penggolongan aktor dan figuran. aku adalah pribadi yang sama saat sadar ataupun tidak. pribadi yang belajar..... untuk tegar....

"inilah harga yang harus aku bayar. demi dia yang aku rindukan... dia yang memancarkan kemahabesarannya dari ujung jalan.... "

di jalan ini..., peluh tidaklah sama dengan keluh yang mesti diucapkan. lelah adalah derita yang menyenangkan. tapi kusadari, kawan adalah agen yang mengubahnya jadi musik yang mengasyikan. maka aku takkan melupakan. kembalilah. kita akan berjalan bersama lagi sekarang.

"inilah sensasi yang nikmat aku genggam. karena dia yang aku rindukan... tahu benar bagaimana membolak-balik hati dan pikiran...."

--berusaha memahami arti sebuah pilihan

udara pagi masih hangat --- sisa segenap emosi semalam yang belum terangkat. aku ingat betapa kau terlihat damai di atas bantal. adakah kau sudah tahu bahwa aku sudah memutuskan?

kukembalikan pena yang dulu sempat kupatahkan. kisahmu akan terus berlanjut. begitupun dengan kisahku. dan kali ini kita benar-benar berjalan beriringan...dengan cara yang berbeda! kau bukanlah kenangan, melainkan teman perjalanan yang senantiasa memberikan pelajaran.

takut itu masih ada di udara. dan tidak akan pernah sirna. karena itulah aku memintamu supaya kita tetap saling menjaga. hingga takut hanyalah sekadar kabut!

sudah kualihkan pandangan itu darimu. aku milik dia yang di ujung jalan itu. bangunlah! dan serutlah penaku. supaya aku bisa tetap menuliskan kisahku disamping kisahmu. goresanku di halaman sebelah goresanmu. tentang perjalanan kita menuju dia yang kita cinta. sampai suatu saat terujilah cinta mana yang bertahan dan tumbang. karena aku sadar, cintaku belum terbukti benar.

biarkan aku selimuti kamu dari serangan dinginnya malam. suatu saat nanti, aku akan berjuang sendirian. tapi pada saat itu aku tahu, kau pun sedang berusaha bertahan.

-- berusaha memahami arti sebuah persahabatan

selamat datang!
ini bukanlah gerbang awal dari sebuah perjalanan. kunci telah dibuka dan potongan jalan telah dijejak setengahnya. lanjutkan! tapakmu berikutnya tidak akan sama dengan masa silam. resapkan udara sekitar ke alveolus terdalam. campakkan saja ketakutan yang menyarang. kita sudah berjanji, bukan?

[kau pernah mengatakan, akhir pekan adalah momen paling menyenangkan. karena setelah itu kita adalah kita yang baru dengan sejumput kesalahan untuk diluruskan dan segenggam tekad untuk lebih kuat. anggap saja hari ini begitu...]

di ujung jalan, kita dan dia akan bertemu. semoga....

-- berusaha memahami arti sebuah kelahiran

Socially Retarded

2009-05-06T20:06:00.003+07:00

I was barely five years old entering the elementary school. My mates were lot older. Some of them even called my name preceded by a word: “de…”. I was practically a little brother from them…. No, no, I was never mind…, til I reached the fifth grade and meeting student from other school via some competition things the government made to make the teachers a little bit busy. Then I saw that it’s fun to have some people who have the same age with me. A week is enough to make a friendship if you have the chemistry. But, that is the era when telephone is a luxury and when the distance easy to break relationship. While I myself refrained to write any correspondence letter because I didn’t know what to say at that time. Then the short-period of friendship is gone instantly. I got back to the chair I used to sit in my school. No, not in the back side, chumming my finger, but I sat in the front seat. Alone. Did I have a close friend? I can say, yes…, but I’m not a fun boy who plays Nintendo or kick a ball in the yard under the bridge.

My great friends when I was a child are my pals in TPA. We have a little masjid whose name the same with my senior’s high school mushala. We pray and play, I might say. At the same time, sometimes. Haha. We used to gathered at maghrib. Teasing the older bro and sis who taught us how to read Arabic. And we play “sorodot gaplok”, “galah asin”, and “boy-boyan” after isya. Sometimes role-playing, imitating “Voltron” and “Ksatria Baja Hitam”. I was always a bright child around them.

In Growth…
INFJ children have two sides. They can be very much involved in the world of people, as well as quiet, imaginative, and in their own world. They are usually gentle and abhor violence. As teenager, INFJs look for a small group of people who understand and appreciate them. Without this support, they can feel isolated from others. INFJs who do not find a supportive social group may find the teen years to be somewhat difficult for them because of peer pressure to be popular and activity oriented. They are not likely to enjoy large parties, but prefer intimate groups of close and long-standing friends.

I don’t DO friendster. I don’t DO facebook. For me, it’s kinda superficial world when the means of friend is reduced to be an acquaintance. You can have hundreds even thousand link of ‘friend’, but at the end, only a few of them who really get you or who actually have a bond with you. I am not a friendly guy or businessman or politician or anyone who needs “network”. And surely I separate people in my work with the people I used to hang out. God, I even separate some close friends with another close friends in a different circle, although they might know each other or even a friend also. These wired-world make those separation line blur. Including blogs. But I don’t care who read my blog or not (well, as long as it’s not my boss or my work related colleagues. Wish I wish they never know this blog), and I care less whether they know each other or not.

Some people said, I build exclusive relationship. Well, I say, I AM INTENSE in building relationship with people who INTENSE building the relationship with me. I’ll be closer when you move closer…, and yes, I’ll be away faster when I sense you take a step a far from me. And I’ll be gone when I think I’ll be a grudge for those people. I fear of rejection? Yes. But I can face rejection. By becoming a person who reject at the first place. Oh, my… I’ll be a bad politician, and even a bad da’i. All in all…, because I am socially retarded.

In Leisure....
Leisure-time pursuits for INFJs are often solitary or involve the company of others who are particularly important to them. Sitting around with dear friends iscussing feelings can be very special to INFJs. INFJs are likely to have friends of long standing rather than make many new acquaintances. They may meet with their friends fairly consistently to share what is happening in their lives. It is sometimes difficult for others to break into this circle. These deep friendships are important, even though INFJs may not share much directly about themselves.

- www.geocities.com/lifexplore/infj.htm

What is The Means of Missing Somebody?

2009-05-02T17:30:00.009+07:00

How much time we need to spare to be together with the people we care? How much time you ask from them to be sit with you, doing or not doing anything? Especially if you don’t have any right whatsoever to simply ask time from them? And it’s getting worse when you had made a plan with them, and suddenly they or you yourself blow it…

And then it comes. A shape of emotion. A yearn. A longing. A loss.

Emotion comes without a notice. It’s purely natural, people say, although somehow it’s too much for people like me. What we can control is the respond of any part of our body: brain, tongue, hands, feet. Still, we have to accept any pain that come along the emotion, as well as we accept the joy. THAT is the part that most inevitable. To face the pain.

About a year ago, a girl had asked me a kind of that question. A question that now attacks me at a sudden. At that time, I said to her, with a hurt pride: why would I want to be attached to someone who doesn't want to be attached to me? And what a regretful deed that i always silently draw myself from those people whom I think like that.

A silent afterwards. But, then, she shot me with her words: well, you must be living a lonely life. And I was dropped dead instantly.

...Calm down...Deep breaths...And get yourself dressed instead...Of running around...And pulling all your threads saying...Breaking yourself up....

If it's a broken part, replace it....

if it's a broken arm then brace it....

If it's a broken heart then face it....

....And hold your own

....Know your name

....And go your own way

And everything will be fine

Everything will be fine

...Are the details in the fabric...Are the things that make you panic...Are your thoughts results of static cling?...Are the things that make you blow...Hell, no reason, go on and scream....If you're shocked it's just the fault...Of faulty manufacturing.

Yeah everything will be fine

Everything in no time at all

Everything

[jason mraz, details in the fabric]

Morally Complicated

2009-04-29T17:35:00.005+07:00

We live in a world of judgment. Eyes stare. Forefinger points. Mouth whispers gossip. Many years ago, it would be hard for me not to “curse” or hide my face towards any kind of bad deeds. Abortion.., Adultery.., Prostitution.., Murder.., Drunk.., Drugs & Narcotics... It feels like growing a sympathy for the devil. Not to mention a “lower” class of sins. Lie.., Betrayal.., Gossip.., Greed.., Pride... And I have been taught really well to hate those things and people who do the things.

But as time goes by, the sky is not blue anymore. I watch a grey gloomy sky. And I catch a red twilight sky. The world is not in binary view as I used to see. There’s not only black and white. So many often, things laid on the grey area. Thus, from a cheater, a mistress, a murderer, a drunken master, and even from a drug-addict, somehow I find something beyond the fact they did the bad things. Something which makes me refrain myself to judge or curse, which makes me hold my breath to say any accusation. Something which makes me look at them as a human, not a bad character. I’m not trying to be Prophet Khidir or trying to excuse. I’m just putting my feet on those people’s shoes. And of course, because I have had been a sinner, who actually made the wrong decisions.

Look at the second wife. Is she a flirtatious mistress? The enemy for every monogamous lady? Is she hurt the first wife? Or actually she’s a victim? All the answer for all those questions is maybe. Not a very firm answer. Because it could be happened that she’s only make a bad choice at the first time, by marrying someone who already have a wife, or even someone who she doesn’t know a bit.

Look at a man who abandoned his family. Is he a bad man? Is he irresponsible? For a slight sight, everyone will call him a villain. But beyond that, there’s always a reason. A reason that might won’t erase any impact and pain he had made, but still a reason to look at him as a human.

Look at a girl with a scarf in her head working in conventional bank. Is it wrong for her to work in a not-syariah bank? Has she betrayed the dogma in her religion that interest is riba? While in her heart, she surely wants to have a more appease job but the chance is not really there and she’s incapable to feed her big family by looking for other job.

I don’t know whether I’m becoming so naïve right now, but I think the perception that people do something wrong because [s]he is a bad person is a naïve perception also. Plus, we are human. And human are flawed. People get lonely sometimes. And people get upset or devastated the other time. Shall we be the people who sit in the high and waste our words by judging while what they actually need is a help? They need a second chance. To undo the mistakes they made. To recover the trust they bailed. Because what un-grey in them is a certainty, that they bring along the shame and the pain for their whole life upon a bad-deed they’ve conceded.

I try to picture a girl
Through a looking glass
See her as a carbon atom
See her eyes and stare back at them
See that girl
As her own new world
Though a home is on the surface,
she is still a universe

Glory God, oh God is peeking through the blinds

Are we all here standing naked

Taking guesses at the actual date and time

Oh my, justifying reasons why

Is an absolutely insane resolution to live by

Live high...Live mighty....Live righteously...

Taking it easy
Try to picture the man
To always have an open hand
And see him as a giving tree
See him as matter
Matter fact he's not a beast
No, not the devil either
Always a good deed doer
And it's laughter that we're making after all

The call of the wild is still an ordination why

And the order of the primates

All our politics are too late

Oh my, the congregation in my mind

Is this assembly singing of gratitude

Practicing their loving for you

Live high...Live mighty...Live righteously...

Taking it easy
Take it all,
And just take it easy
And celebrate the malleable reality
You see nothing is ever as it seems
Yeah this life is but a dream

Lift me up to the almighty

Raise your hands and start acknowledging

[jason mraz, live high]

You Make It Easier When Life Gets Hard

2009-04-27T18:52:00.004+07:00

"Do you hear me?

I'm talking to you...

Across the water...

Across the deep blue ocean...

Under the open sky... Oh my..."

Wish I wish everyday like this....

"I hear you in my dreams

I feel your whisper across the sea

I keep you with me in my heart

You make it easier when life gets hard..."

A classic song with a breeze of wave and shred of guitar....

On helpless addiction to Jason Mraz though I never knew who is he...

this one, Lucky, heard in a perfect place and time to make my heart sway unconsciously...

When We Were Innocent...

2009-04-25T13:45:00.006+07:00

One liner email...
"Still remember this?", it says.
there's an attachment...
a picture i lost for century...

One was a searcher. For a community. To be part of something although he knew he might be the misfit.

One was a born-to-be-a-devout. His family is a well-educated person about Islam. And he definitely being sure about being a member of the group.

One was a mountain-hiker. Rebellious. Unable to be organized, yet really need everything organized.

One was my seatmate at nineth grade. He was the prefect and I was the man behind his deed. We were two peas in the pod. We made the best ally for the class and for our home-teacher. And yes, we both were our teacher's favorite students, except for our "religion-teacher". He's a snob for us.

One was my seatmate at eighth grade. He was the preacher and I was the questioner. We set a class to enjoy our "talk-show" although we almost surely knew, no one really listened to.

One was a japanese-"kin". He showed me the love of kanji. And he showed me the love of a teenage to the opposite-sex while I'm barely blooming fourteen.

One was the most friendly person I've ever met. He was the one who pull me to join the community, and for him, I sincerely enjoy to help his homework, although we're not a classmate.

One was a humorist. Yet, he's the source of knowledge. A place to asked about our holy book and fiqh. And I'm lucky I had became his roommate in college, although unfortunately I didnt use him much to teach me so many things...

One was a conceptor. Almost an idealist. Great things come from his hand. Mostly in the form of a note. And I can still remember several notes I learned from him.

One was a follower. Almost a stalker. For the truth. Something I didnt have at that time.

One was a fast-learner. From an eager human, to be a militant person. I can't compete with his innocence and frumpishness. And he took the benefit as being the book-keeper.

One was a neighbourhood-activist. The back-bone of the family. Unlike me, the appendix of my family...

One was a humble fighter. Have a great gravitation into virtue, but somehow alone in personify it.

One was a socialite. He leads the main organization in the school. He's the front-runner of us. And surely the one who leaved us first.

One was an absolute joyful person. You got to be laugh around him. Even me, the cloudy somber person, laugh often.

One was a fighter. Literally and metaphorically. He's a fine man in one kind of martial art and a better man in getting his goal.

One was an "elder". A leader of our group. Quiet and steady. Firm and wise. And to him I talk about my thought and my love life. Until now...

And the last one, is someone who almost lost all the others because his incapability to preserve the best things he ever get.

OMYGOD…, I’m an INFJ…!!!

2009-04-23T15:44:00.002+07:00

You Are An INFJ

The Protector

You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity.

Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is.

You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience.

You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them.

In love, you truly see relationships as an opportunity to connect and grow.

You enjoy relationships as long as they are improving and changing. You can't stand stagnation.

At work, you stay motivated and happy... as long as you are working toward a dream you support.

You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher.

How you see yourself: Hardworking, ethical, and helpful

When other people don't get you, they see you as: Manipulative, weak, and unstable

What's Your Personality Type?

Last night, I was barely able to sleep. It is funny how much one-two thought has keeping your eyes open. I know I’m so tired. It’s a long day yesterday. But my brain made my heart keeps pumping oxygen. So I went online. Hoping to meet some inspiration…, or someone. But then, I found a terrifying truth. I just found this “blogthing” and spontaneously answer several questions. And POPS! It claims me as an INFJ.

I’m so blind about it. So, I googled. Then I found a page in wikipedia. Here it is:

INFJ (Introversion, iNtuition, Feeling, Judging) is an acronym used in the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) publications to refer to one of the sixteen personality types.[1][2] The MBTI assessment was developed from the work of prominent psychiatrist Carl G. Jung in his book Psychological Types, which proposed a psychological typology based on his theories of cognitive functions. These theories were based on clinical observation, however, rather than the controlled studies required for acceptance by the modern field of cognitive psychology.[3]

So there’s actually a new identification method rather than what I knew previously (you know right? About the melancholic-phlegmatic choleric-and-sanguine thing?). Well, this one as wiki said, is based on clinical observation related to cognitive function (blablabla whatever it is you must be bored listened to it) but, in my opinion, this one has a very specific classification. That’s why I said, it reveals a terrifying truth…. About me! A very fine description that I’m almost make this page as my new bestfriend since it understands me so bad….!

The MBTI preferences indicate the differences in people based on the following:
1.How they focus their attention or get their energy (Extraversion or Introversion)
2.How they perceive or take in information (Sensing or iNtuition)
3.How they prefer to make decisions (Thinking or Feeling)
4. How they orient themselves to the external world (Judgment or Perception)

So, this is what MBTI says about an INFJ:

I – Introversion preferred to Extraversion: INFJs tend to be quiet and reserved. They generally prefer interacting with a few close friends rather than a wide circle of acquaintances, and they expend energy in social situations (whereas extraverts gain energy).

WOW! I’m shocked. Well said. And some people always ask me, why if I already close with some people, I always stick with them… Now you guys have an answer, because it needs a lot of energy to expand the friendship. It’s tiring.

N – iNtuition preferred to Sensing: INFJs tend to be more abstract than concrete. They focus their attention on the big picture rather than the details, and on future possibilities rather than immediate realities.
F – Feeling preferred to Thinking: INFJs tend to rely on a personal, internal sense of right and wrong rather than external, objective criteria. When making decisions, they often give more weight to feelings and social considerations than to logic.
Haha… And I thought, social consideration and people reaction are part of logic and base of decision.
J – Judgment preferred to Perception: INFJs tend to plan their activities and make decisions early. They derive a sense of control through predictability, which to perceptive types may seem limiting.

Well, I do like to have everything properly planned, and worried much for any unexpected thing might happened, but still… excited…

And then the page describes more about INFJ:

INFJs are conscientious and value-driven. They seek meaning in relationships, ideas, and events, with an eye toward better understanding themselves and others. Using their intuitive skills, they develop a clear vision, which they then execute decisively to better the lives of others. Like their INTJ counterparts, INFJs regard problems as opportunities to design and implement creative solutions.[12]

INFJs are quiet, private individuals who prefer to exercise their influence behind the scenes. Although very independent, INFJs are intensely interested in the well-being of others (this is the part when some people accused me as “like to interogating”). INFJs prefer one-on-one relationships to large groups (meaning, I have difficulties in joining two or even three of my closest friend in one time, one interaction. I can’t divide my attention so easily and always think that they might me hurt when I pay more attention to the other). Sensitive and complex, they are adept at understanding complicated issues and driven to resolve differences in a cooperative and creative manner. (and there it goes, sensitive is unavoidable for me, and I do like complex issues.)

Accounting for 1–3% of the population (wow, I’m a scarce creature) INFJs have a rich, vivid inner life, which they may be reluctant to share with those around them (and then some people really expect me to share my things, my life, my love-story and really upset when I’m not telling them. Sorry.). Nevertheless, they are congenial in their interactions, and perceptive of the emotions of others. Generally well-liked by their peers, they may often be considered close friends and confidants by most other types.

However, they are guarded in expressing their own feelings, especially to new people, and so tend to establish close relationships slowly. INFJs tend to be easily hurt, though they may not reveal this except to their closest companions. (easily hurt? Am I a cursed creature to be clinically observed as that? Though I don’t deny that I DO easily hurt). INFJs may "silently withdraw as a way of setting limits," rather than expressing their wounded feelings—a behavior that may leave others confused and upset. (so I’m walking out from some people’s life is just my method. How silly is that? To have one page description bluntly said this thing? However so true is it?)

INFJs tend to be sensitive, quiet leaders with a great depth of personality. They are intricately and deeply woven, mysterious, and highly complex, sometimes puzzling even to themselves (hmm.. try to remember so many occasion when my friend said that I am warm, yet have so may secret). They have an orderly view toward the world, but are internally arranged in a complex way that only they could understand. Abstract in communicating, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. (Damn! This article is getting really real and devastating. It’s hard to say the opposite) With a natural affinity for art, INFJs tend to be creative and easily inspired.[16] Yet they may also do well in the sciences, aided by their intuition

At the end of the night, I conclude that I’m not the only one having this kind of character. Maybe it’s only 1-3%, but I’m not alone, and I’m not the only one. But why oh why, there’s so many people hard to understand this thing about me. That I’m naturally grew with this character as if it’s a disease I have to take unless I develop my maturity….

Thanks for Mr. Jung. You are my new bestfriend now. Since you told me that I’m just growing by carrying one among sixteen type of personality in the world, while I usually thought that I’m just simply dark and damaged.

A masquerader

2009-04-21T19:48:00.005+07:00

Like peterpan…, I’m extremely exciting with annual conference this year. There’s a carnival night...! Just like Japanese people do in so much occasion. We landed in this beautiful island with an unspeakable impression towards its beauty. It’s not a neverland…, it’s a “gods”-land.

Like alice in wonderland…, I was marooned in “Pasar Senggol”. We gathered in such a cozy place. Breeze in our face. Soothe view in our eyes. And light…! So much beautiful light surrounded by trees and hovels. There’s magician…, clowns…, tarot reader…, fire-dance…, pantomime…, face painting…, and… of course, the topic of the carnaval: a masquerader! I bet you won’t be able to guess what costume I wear.

Like beauty and the beast…, we’re dancing. Sway one way, shake another way. The world is steady and we’re flying and spinning. As if there’s no worry for today or tomorrow. Free like a bird. Teasing each other. Have fun together.

Like the hutchback of notredam…, people sit and see the crowd over the rock Castile. Their eyes looks envy and feel the urge to join down. Tonight, I don’t wanna be a part of them. I wanna try something different. To experience another side of me. I am Oliver Twist in twisted world.

Like harry potter…, I was the odd in the crowd. But I enjoyed it. I paint my face…. I teased the tarot-reader.... I tested the magician…. I imitated the pantomime…., I tickled the clown…, and I am masquerading…! So much joy I felt that night. Another kind of joy I used to have.

And like Cinderella…, we have to pack our dream whenever 12 o’clock is come. And we scrub our face of glitter before dreaming again. As I see myself in the mirror. I notice that..., actually, I don’t have to wear any costume or any mask. Because so many times I see, I don’t recognize the face of me. I’m already and always being a man in the mask.

Broken-Hearted

2009-04-20T16:42:00.003+07:00

Gajah Mada Café, 8.30pm.

Boy-1 : You know, he will marry her in a short-time.

Boy-2 : Oya?

(silence)

Boy-1 : Is it ok for you?

Boy-2 : Nothing to be judged ok or not. It’s an ancient history. Well, actually…, no history has been written yet. I even never met her again. Why should bother?

Boy-1 : Is it? Because my eyes catch that you try to hold a steady face expression. As if you feel something, but you won’t express it.

Boy-2 : Well, they are both my old-friends. I think it’s not appropriate to feel sad or upset. While for feeling happy, I cannot afford to fake my face.

Boy-1 : So. It means you’re not ok. I’m sorry to bring-up the topic.

Boy-2 : Not your fault. I’ll know it someday anyway. Don’t worry. I get used to feel sad when my friend’s getting married. Not something new. I just fell lost and left. People has departed, and I’m just…here. That’s all.

Boy-1 : Really? Because this time, this marriage is not like the other marriage. Isn’t it?

(silence)

Boy-2 : Do you know the funny thing is?

Boy-1 : What?

Boy-2 : Actually, I kinda expecting…, no…, portraying…, no…, estimating this moment. I knew it will come, I just don’t know when. A heartbreak. A broken-hearted. I thought this moment will be excruciatingly painful. Shattered my heart as it shattered the memory. I thought I can feel my eyes so hot trying to hold something out from a gland. But…

Boy-1 : But you don’t feel like that? It’s good news. It doesn’t mean you’re an ignorant or heartless person.

Boy-2 : No. I don’t feel like that. I feel WORSE. Don’t you see I’m stiffing here? I just want to hold every movement, because in every move, it hurts. If only I can stop breathing, but I can’t.

Boy-1 : Don’t talk nonsense. It's already been three years. Three years that you’ve became away and untouchable. Is that really long enough to get over someone?

Boy-2 : I had a thing for someone once. And I had a shot, but I was too young and coward and the world felt not encouraging. So for a little while, I'd lay in bed every night, wondering if it was a mistake. Wondering if... I'd ever stop thinking about that person. So... is three years long enough to get over someone? I don’t think so…

Is it supposed to make me feel better?

2009-04-18T07:32:00.003+07:00

March. It was appraisal time. As usual, it’s one of a few times to say some wishes that most probable heard by board director. So, “be careful for what you wish for” is kinda true in this situation. Even a blunt joke can be considered as a desperate-wish from the bottom of our heart. And by experience, the joke is come true one day or another. But I take a chance to speak up and already prepared for the most unexpected reaction.

It’s not because my position right now isn’t challenging or boring. It’s the opposite. Last year is a non-stop struggling. One by one, problems, incidents, conflicts emerged like frogs after the rain. But I think I stayed too long here. And there were so many things out of work I need to lock first in a tiny box and store it under a closet. That’s why I think about moving.

But my bigboss was giving me some speech. He talked about hot jobs and hot persons. He told me that my position right now is what our board director says as hot jobs. Why? Because these jobs require a thorough plan and excellent execution, not mention that this division generates the highest growth for company’s NPS. And it doesn’t apply to another department, except maintenance engineering. “And hot jobs require hot persons,” he continued his words, “that’s why I need you here.”

I didn’t buy his speech at the beginning, though I know the number he showed was a real fact. Then he said, “I know, we put you in a very uncomfortable situation, ultra-high pressure, and hostile environment...,” (Oh, what a perfect description he told me back then. Something he maybe read from my eyes.), “But we need a capable person also to handle it...,” he closed his speech.

I said nothing. The fact is, I’m still there. Working with many hateful people, two-faces personality, although I admit, some of them are brilliant. There’s just a question deep in my head, “Is it supposed to make me feel better?”

***

Night hour. Crowded street. I was in the car with my house-mate. Suddenly, BRAKK!! The car was shaking so hard. I was frozen. I thought I did something wrong. But my mate said, someone bump his motorcycle to the back of my car. And I thought, “seriously?”

I looked at the back and there he was, tumbling down like someone who just woke up from his dream. By the time I unbuckled my seatbelt and try to face the suspected, he ran. Damn! The street is just too crowded to after him. My heart felt so empty at that time. It happened so fast. By the time I sober, I could only say a weird question, “Why do I feel upset right now?”

My mate, Dayat, said, “It’s because you have unfulfilled intention: to face someone who dare to hit you.” I sighed. Well, at least, we know that he’s the one who DID mistake. If he was right, he would yell at us,” my mate, who apparently KNOWS me, said this uncommentable comment. Still, I said to him, “Is it supposed to make me feel better?”

By the time we arrived in our flat, we checked the back of my car. I thought, there will be a great damaged, dented or something. That immoral guy had hit us so hard! But there’s only scratch in some part. Even the under protection moulding isn’t scratch a bit. Dayat checked it and give another comment, “At least we know that your car is solid and not a defect-manufactured.” And I stare at him with disbelieve look, “Ha. Ha. Is it supposed to make me feel better?”

***

Bad weeks. On the jobs. In family. At election event I was pushed to involve to. And it sinks me to the bottom: I lose someone significant in my family. I was a mess. So I just want to share some thing with someone. Not someone we used to ask seriously about something related to national issue or religion’s solution or else. But someone I had believed that we’re building support system for each other. So I called him. Twice. No answer. I didn’t give up, and I can’t give up. So I texted. Not long, a message came.

“Sorry, bro. I handle too many projects right now. Too busy.”

I think I could understand at that time. And I WANT to understand. But the thought that he didn’t pick up the phone, just because I would bother, cannot get away from my head. How if this is an emergency, since he is one of the eight person I put in speed dial and ICE (in case of emergency) tag in my cellphone? Okay, I overreact. I did it myself, but I think I didn’t pick up a call because I’m on driving or sleeping or simply because I’m away from my cellphone. And if the missed-call is only once, then I conclude it’s not an emergency. So I wait for another call. So, yes, I was overreact, but since I knew he had fun in Singapore few days after..., the thought has gathered its power again.

Weeks after that, he called. I’m glad at last I can pick up his call after few last calls I was away from my cellphone. And suddenly, with no reason, he told me his activities..., from 6am until the next day..., showing that he’s really busy. Well, it’s kinda funny how it’s spoken, and I kinda feel appreciated. But, still, there’s a nag inside of me, “Is it supposed to make me feel better?”

Because frankly speaking, I have a hard time to feel better after listened their words. Though I know, someway, they all care about me. Well, maybe.

Uncontrollable…

2009-04-16T18:29:00.001+07:00

Sometimes…, I wanna kill someone…
But I have to think twice about how I can manage the government to condone my deed and I’m free from any accusation. And I have to think thrice about how to make myself away from hell. Although I can have so much way how to do the murder, whether by a drug, or a slit in a wrist, or a stab in the back, or a choke in the neck, or by bumping someone by a car…!

Somehow, I still have a grip in a real life. Though I feel like a wreck in this month, but I still can make my hands on their place.

But, last night…, I did it. I killed someone. In a way I never thought about it. I lock someone in the closet. A closet full of bottles containing peroxide, sodium hydroxide, hypochlorite, phosphoric acid, and nitric acid. I was totally furious and betrayed at that time. And by the time I come back and open the closet, I found a body. With a mouth full of foam…!

This morning, I figured out, does a dream uncontrollable?

***

Sometimes…, I wanna talk sh*t…
But I have to think twice how I can make it happened without risking my reputation. And I have to think thrice how to make it as elegant as possible. Well, I don’t afraid if someone I talk to would be furious, because, hey, that’s the reason you talk sh*t rite? To make someone irritated as you feel too.

But I was known as someone who don’t speak sh*t. Bad words like any kind of animals or stupid accusation are not in my dictionary. My tongue is animals-calling-free. I’m proud of it.

Somehow, there’s an urge to shout the redeemed-naughty-boy in my soul. And the brain has found the way. So I hurt people by some twisted, vulgar words. I can use plain words, not a bad words, to undermine people existence, to corner them in shame and guilt, and even to make them feel and look ridiculous.

Like people said, tongue isn’t boned. So, does this tongue really uncontrollable??

***

Sometimes…, I feel sad…
But I really wonder why should I feel sad and devastated? Why did something make me so bothered? Why someone has really go in depth my heart? Why did everything successfully felt meaningless? I think, and I think, and I think… There’s no logic reason analogous with the symptoms. Or maybe there’s a second brain in my head that block all the truth…

I was known as someone who thinks systematic, great ability in handle puzzle, and definitely believe in causality-effect.

But then I think again, does emotion truly uncontrollable???

Equality

2009-03-21T14:03:00.003+07:00

Which one you prefer to be agree to...

[1] All human are born equal..., but they cannot continue in this equality. Society makes them lose it, and they recover it only by the protection of the law.

[2] We are not born equal. Equality..., is the result of human organization. It was made by social reconstruction.

[3] No man born in equality. Rich family birth rich baby, poor family grow poor baby. The struggle to be equal is their choice in the future.

[4] We born in equality.... Things change when they growing older..., but as human, we are all equal in the presence of death.

Yesterday, my subordinat insisted an equality. I asked them, "What do you mean with equality?" So many answers come up, but they even did not agree with each other. So I said, "Come back to me when you have an equal definition about that."

But, then, I really wonder, what is an equality? It's a homework for this weekend for me...

Mortifying Algorithm

2009-03-19T19:09:00.003+07:00

There’s a common algorithm for apologizing, especially when we don’t know why we should have apologizing since we don’t recognize what is the mistake which makes someone avoiding us. Here it is:

1. Go to someone you feel you might make mistake. The algorithm will be success if you can get him/her get out from his/her space and meet you somewhere. The easiest spot is a restaurant or café where people normally TALK…

2. Act as if there’s nothing wrong and try to make conversation

3. Look at his/her eyes. Find out if [s]he’s being quiet (abnormally quiet, I mean) or responding well to our words.

4. If the latest one happened, congratulation! There’s nothing wrong about you and your relationship with him/her. No need to apologize. If the first thing occurred, continue to read…

5. Stop talking or making any conversation. Make a silent ambience. Just play, “who’s the first one talk, [s]he’s lose the game….”

6. Wait for 10 minutes. If the air is still sound silence, then…

7. Wait for another 10 minutes. If [s]he doesn’t start the conversation and looks really comfy with his/her blackberry as if there’s no you there…, then…

8. Wait for another 10 minutes. (hey…, [s]he can be truly busy for only 10 minutes!). If the situation unchanged, no eyes-contact, then…

9. Finish your meals and ask him/her to accompany you to go shopping as if you really need something to buy as soon as possible. Just try to look something difficult to find (a sport shoes size 50, a white sunglasses, yukata for carnival party, sunscreen for men, or just… anything…!)

10. See if [s]he walks beside you, behind you, or in front of you. If [s]he walks beside you, then congratulation again! You have no problem with him/her. If [s]he walks behind you, then [s]he buys some time to figure out what [s]he has to talk with you, or simply because [s]he interested in some stuff in the store. But if [s]he walks five feet in front of you, then…

11. it’s time for you to accept that [s]he doesn’t want to be with you… At least, not that day. So, get out other opinion, because the fact is already there like an open book: you DO have problem with him/her. What next? Jump to the next number

12. Ask the key question, “Let’s call it a night. It’s already dark here. Shall we go home?” If you find some relieve tension in his/her face…, it’s definitely the time you have to send him/her back to his/her home. No question anymore. Just… shut up, if you don’t wanna make a scene in the crowd.

13. Say salam or anything with a freeze smile. Never indicate that there’s something wrong in that occasion when you drop him/her in his/her house. And then…

14. Go Home…! Figure out anything that may insult or hurt him/her in the first place.

15. If there’s nothing you can found…, drop it! If [s]he cares you enough, [s]he will say something one way or another. Just…maybe not now…

Simple steps, no? Well, it’s a long algorithm, I admit. It’s not common, albeit. It’s mortifying and cowardly disastrous. The common algorithm is really simple for apologizing to someone you considers avoiding you although you don’t know what the reason. It only consists of one step: Just ask him/her, “Is there anything in me that bugging you? I’m sorry I’m not able to find it, and whatever it is, I’m truly sorry”. The End. No drama. No wasteful resources. But hey, it’s only happen to a brave man. Do you?

Diazepam

2009-03-17T16:30:00.003+07:00

It begins with a toothache and inability to get sleep for two nights. Dreaming, but not sleeping. Oh, my god, I just need a painkiller… The pain for a toothache is the same with a heart-break. It’s constant. Continuous. Staggering. Shattering. People said, time heals. I just can’t buy it. Such a decrepit proverb for me. So I chose the simplest and the fastest way. To be numb.

Mefenamic acid is my first choice. Ponstan, in trivial name. Just a couple of pills. Done!

But the pain is not over. Usually, I called my bro whose mom is a nurse. I trust him much more than any doctor or a dentist. Any kind of smear, fever, or cold-sweat, I always ask him what is it and what should I do. After all, he’s free of charge for listen my long-whiney grumble :). Although sometimes he makes some noisy question like, ‘what did you eat?’, or ‘what? you haven’t gone to a doctor after a month in pain?’. Usually I enjoy those questions, but for now, what I need is a direct solution. So I went to a dentist.

He opened my mouth. And yes, he said, “You have to come here a year ago.” And I just gave him a smirk. He said, my gum is swelling. Symptom of infection. And a new tooth is growing in my back cusped. That’s why if I close my upper and bottom teeth, it feels hurt. Then he cut and sawed a piece of my tooth. With a SAW. Seriously.

At the end, he gave me a recipe. I read it with a great effort. You know those doctor’s writing, rite? (not that I’m generalizing…). So I get this name of drug. I think it’s a painkiller. I try to google it. Here what came up about it:

Diazepam…, first marketed as Valium by Hoffmann-La Roche, is a benzodiazepine derivative drug. It possesses anxiolytic, anticonvulsant, hypnotic, sedative, skeletal muscle relaxant and amnestic properties. It is commonly used for treating anxiety, insomnia, seizures, muscle spasms, alcohol withdrawal and benzodiazepine withdrawal. It may also be used before certain medical procedures (such as endoscopies) to reduce tension and anxiety, and in some surgical procedures to induce amnesia.

Ouch. It hurts my feeling. Anxiety. Well, I admit it. Insomnia. Hmm, just a little bit. Seizure? Spasm? I don’t think so. Hesitantly, I receive the drugs from the pharmacist. At that time, there’s a thought: Should I call my bro as usual???

Because You Make Me Forgetting My God

2009-03-10T19:19:00.007+07:00

Night call at three years ago. Sometimes, I heard the words I listened back then. A bit blur. I remember the words in uncomplete sentences.

"I'm sorry...

...I really enjoy the time with you...

... although it's quite consuming...

...I'm glad to see you smile...

...I wish you never cry...

...You have so many people around...

...who care about you...

...And believe me, I always excited hanging with you...

...But everytime we spent our time together...

...I stop tilawah... I break my fasting... I never murajaah...

...We are just playing, laughing, and travelling around...

...Then I know it's not good for both of us...

...And I think this friendship is not working...

...Because you make me forgetting my god..."

Silent night in September three years ago.

I closed the conversation by saying, "...'afwan, barakallah..."

Cutting the voice I've never heard again.

Since then..., I always think..., maybe I'm not a good friend. Coz like a devil..., I took their ticket to find the God.

Nothing to Talk About

2009-03-10T17:03:00.003+07:00

Talking… is good.
Talking… is important.
Because when you don’t talk…, when you don’t say what’s on your mind…, things happened.
Things that most possible you’re not willing to happen.
All managerial experts mention this fancy word: communication, while the basic is simple: talk! (and listen…) All relationship: family, friend, teacher, or superior-subordinat, need it. No exception.

One of the biggest mistakes about relationship is…, you expect people know what you want without you need to talk. You treat them like a psychic who’s mastering telepathic. Especially those who’s really been close to you. You want them to read your body language, even read your mind, and then give you what you want them to do.

You don’t talk because you’re afraid how they would react.
You don’t talk because the topic will humiliate yourself and you worried you’ll lose their respect.
You don’t talk because you feel talking would make everything torn apart while actually nothing going to be happened if you just shut off your mouth.
And that is how the relationship stuck somewhere in the middle of the road. And that is how you grieve about losing all relationship you had behind your back. You leave it in the place where it stuck, and you try to move on. It is end because you always say, "nothing to talk about".

How I really missed talking to you...

unavalaible

2009-03-07T14:09:00.005+07:00

The word of the day:

Adj.
1.
unavailable - not available or accessible or at hand

[Collins Essential English Dictionary 2nd Edition 2006 © HarperCollins Publishers 2004, 2006]

Like people said,

if there's no scar, it doesn't mean there's no pain, isn't it?

There's two option, I'll hunt every unavailable... Or... I'll just wait the unavalaible appeared right in front my eyes...

I'm too tired right now, and maybe... there's a nice thing about waiting...

Dreadful Leadership [1]

2009-03-03T15:36:00.006+07:00

To every leaders in every company around the world..., beware...!

Those subordinates always skulk like a hound behind you to seek every mistake you might ever make. They look at us as a perfect person who shouldn't have made any false step. They don't see us as a human. They... dehumanize us...!

And by the time they found even a tiny bitsy lapse or fault in our act, they assails us. They oppose us. Arguing that we are hypocrate, for doing what we forbid. Whereas we know, they're things that apply to us, and they're thing that apply to them, as well as we have more information than them.

They're just like a baby. Even worse. Mistake is the first thing they imitate.

Distrust can come so fast. In a snap between two blinks. Not like the lenght of time we build it. In a century of tears and blood sheding.

It happens if we are the leaders. But, sometimes we forget that we have our leaders too. And sometimes..., we act like our subordinates to them. We expect so much from our leaders, as if they are flawless person. Though we know, perfection is impossible.

Slumming to Slumdog Millionare’s Slum

2009-02-26T18:36:00.002+07:00

"Wow, God. Do You COMMAND me to jump in my own crap???"

This is practically my first midnight movie I’ve ever seen. Though it starts at 10.10 pm, but the commercial-advertisement thingy in the opening was robbing the first half hour. What a disappoint for a theatre as great as Blitz. That’s why I found it’s already passed 1pm when we head to Cikarang, one of many slum area of Jakarta (dugh…!).

Like I said, I watch movie just by recommendation from my movieclopedia. And yes, the recommendation is never disappointing. It’s SLUMDOG MILLIONARE. If you haven’t seen this, make sure you catch it. It’s almost perfect in every angle.

Although the end of the story is quite predictable, the idea of the story itself is intriguing. Decent, but contented. It begins with a teenage boy (the most honest boy I’ve known) from “the central of central India” (which was a slum-area-turned-out-to-be-a-finest-business-district) who just one question away from winning a 20 mio rupees on the game show (the same one brought by Tantowi Yahya here: “Who Wants To Be a Millionare?”). But just as the show break due to its limited time, to be continued in the next night, Jamal is arrested by the local police. The accusation is simple: How come an unschooled-orphan child like him knows so much the answer of every question? Did he cheat? It leads to so much stories behind his life. A full dramatic and heart-stopping story. It deals with our beliefs, religion’s conflict, reality of low-class society, brotherhood or family relationship, and of course… a loyalty to a [girl]friend (as if all movie-producers in the world aren’t enough with man-women relationship).

The story is delivered uniquely. Every question and answer in the quiz, coincidentally (read: has been written by fate, God), described Jamal’s memory of his past. About Athos, Porthos, and Aramis which was actually Jamal’s analogy for himself; his temperamental brother , Salim; and his friend he met after Hindi’s massacre to their parents, Latika. And also about how he really adores Amitha Bachan…. (and when I say "really…", I meant REALLY REALLY DO, so he dare to sink himself into the pond of his own… feces. O, yes, feces. It’s shockingly gross scene of falling into a steaming pile of crap. But I think the reality is sooo much worse. I should have known…, Reality bites…!!!)

Along the story, we are pleasured by amazing fast change of scene. From the smell of devastating slum into the sound of crowded metropolis India. Have I told you that I have a thing for a train? Well, this story shows the same dirty station and the same train we see in Indonesia. It is a spectacle of perfect angle of visuals and right tempo of sounds. The soundtracks are pretty cool also. I might be danced if I heard it again… (yay!)

The actors are great, especially those little Jamal. He’s so cute in his gold-heart-innocent behavior that I want to have one as my little brother. Latika, as many of girls around, who's growing like a butterfly…, is played fine, but could be better. Salim, he’s great as a child but awkward as a teenager. But overall, they’re succeed to give a natural act as the slumdogs.

It’s a happy ending story, quite reducing the great impression I got along the story. Too good to be true. But hey…, people need something hopeful among all stressful scene, right? Well, now, I wonder, how much people here who’s actually grows from a slum area??? *raise my hand hesitantly*

Newton’s Cradle

2009-02-25T18:36:00.003+07:00

Lima buah bandul itu terlihat cantik. Mengkilap dalam bulatan sempurna. Pantulan cahaya biru perak dengan tepat memberikan kesan modern dan futuristik.

“Sudah siap untuk bercerita?” Yang tua mulai berbicara. Yang diajak bicara terlanjur terpesona pada benda unik di depannya.

“Apa tidak bisa Bapak langsung memberi tahu saya apa masalahnya?”

“Saya bukan peramal. Apalagi Tuhan.”

Anak muda itu berkerut. Pikirnya, semua jenis dokter sama saja. Mereka sebenarnya tidak tahu apa-apa. Mereka lebih cocok disandingkan dengan pialang. Mereka hanya menerka! Tidak ada kepastian yang benar-benar berdasar. Dan seringkali, terkaan yang mereka sebut “diagnosis” itu meleset dari kenyataan. Setidaknya, bapak setengah baya ini jujur, pikir si anak muda.

“Saya bukan tipe orang yang suka bercerita. Bukannya tugas bapak untuk memberi tahu dan memberi solusi terhadap masalah yang dihadapi orang-orang?”

“Bukan, bukan. Tugas saya adalah untuk membantu orang-orang menyadari apa yang sedang terjadi pada mereka. Bukan saya yang menyelesaikan masalah mereka. Tapi saya, membantu mereka supaya mereka bisa menyelesaikan masalah mereka.”

“Sama saja,” kata anak muda itu keras kepala.

Serangkai bandul itu menggoda. Si anak muda menarik bola terluar, lalu melepasnya begitu saja. Bola terujung itu menabrak bola yang diam di sebelahnya. Tak sampai satu detik berikutnya, bola yang ada di ujung seberang terangkat dalam jarak yang sama. Begitu dia kembali, bola terujung yang tadi sudah diam terangkat lagi. Begitu seterusnya.

“Katakan, sebenarnya tujuan Mas Ardi kembali ke sini apa?” Yang tua kembali bertanya.

“Sudah saya katakan. Saya punya masalah. Dan saya berharap Bapak membantu saya untuk menyelesaikan masalah itu.”

“Saya bisa. Tapi saya perlu tahu, apa masalah yang Mas Ardi hadapi.”

Ada kontak mata di sana. Untuk pertama kalinya.

“Sayangnya, saya juga tidak tahu apa masalah saya.”

Yang dipanggil Ardi membuang nafas. Lawan bicaranya tersenyum sesaat.

“Mas Ardi berkendara ratusan kilometer. Memaksakan cuti satu hari karena saya hanya buka praktek di hari kerja. Pasti ada alasannya sampai bersusah payah begitu.”

Tidak ada yang bicara dalam selang beberapa saat. Suasana terasa kikuk. Bapak tua yang tadi siap siaga menatap si anak muda bersandar pada sofa.

“Biasanya, orang-orang yang tidak suka berbicara tentang dirinya adalah orang-orang yang sudah terbiasa mendengarkan. Bahkan terlalu banyak mendengarkan. Dia cenderung mengorek pribadi orang lain dan mencampuri urusan mereka. Dan saat pribadinya sendiri ditanyai, dia langsung menutup pembicaraan.”

Mata si Bapak itu terlihat menyindir.

“Teori apa itu? Apa itu diajarkan di mata kuliah dasar-dasar Psikologi?”

“Tidak, tidak. Itu teori dari pengalaman.”

“Dan sebenarnya orang-orang yang tadi Bapak bicarakan adalah orang-orang kalangan Bapak sendiri, bukan? Hampir semua psikolog seperti itu tampaknya.”

“Hahaha. Cerdas. Membalikkan sindiran dengan tepat. Saya suka orang-orang seperti Mas Ardi. Secara pribadi, maksud saya. Karena di sisi pekerjaan, orang-orang seperti Mas Ardi inilah yang paling sulit dibantu. Jangan-jangan, Mas Ardi lulusan psikologi juga?”

Yang ditanya tersenyum.

“Itu akan tampak seperti dokter syaraf yang berpenyakit epilepsi. Bukan. Saya cuma sarjana teknik. Mengurusi benda mati yang sudah jelas guratan takdirnya. Tidak pernah menyimpang hukum yang sudah digariskan.”

“Ah, manusia dan alam tidaklah jauh berbeda.”

“Jelas berbeda. Lihat! Bandul di depan saya ini terus bergerak konstan. Seperti itulah alam. Mudah ditebak, selama kita tahu hukum-hukumnya. Di sinilah energi dan momentum dipertahankan dengan independent. Sampai besok, bandul-bandul itu tidak akan pernah diam selama saya tidak memberikan gaya lain untuk menghentikannya. Sedangkan manusia..., sering saya berpura-pura tahu bahwa saya mengerti mereka..., padahal kebanyakan waktu tidak.”

“Ah, begitukah? Sebenarnya manusia juga seperti bandul-bandul itu. Tapi saya bicara manusia sebagai satu spesies, tanpa dibandingkan dengan manusia lainnya, karena ada faktor genotif dan fenotif yang berbicara, membuat setiap manusia unik. Tapi manusia bisa dikategorikan. Manusia yang sama, akan memberikan respon yang sama terus-menerus jika diberikan rangsangan yang sama. Seorang pemarah akan selalu bertemperamen tinggi. Tapi ada saatnya dia tidak berlaku demikian. Mungkin karena yang dihadapi adalah ibu atau orang yang dia sayangi. Itulah gaya luar yang mempengaruhi perubahan responnya.”

Anak muda itu memiringkan kepalanya. Ada sesuatu yang mendorong dia untuk mempercayai orang asing di depannya. Mungkin lebih tepat, membuat dia merasa aman untuk mengungkapkan sesuatu padanya. Nothing to lose, nothing to gain.

“Mungkin, Bapak orang yang tepat kali ini,” ucapnya. Lalu dimulailah pembicaraan panjang.

Sejam kemudian, mereka berhadapan di gerbang pintu.

“Oya, satu lagi. Di pertemuan selanjutnya, saya harap Mas Ardi memakai nama asli.”

Yang dituduh tersenyum.

Dia menunjuk ke arah bandul-bandul yang masih bertahan dalam gerakannya yang konstan.

“Apa Bapak tahu nama benda itu?”

Sebelum yang ditanya menjawab, dia melanjutkan perkataannya, “Bandul-bandul itu dinamakan Newton’s Cradle. Prototype sempurna untuk menjelaskan hukum kekekalan momentum dan menjelaskan teori aksi-reaksi Newton. Tapi, apa perlu Bapak mengetahui namanya? Cukup dengan memahami yang terjadi padanya sudah cukup, bukan?”

Mereka pun saling mengucapkan salam sebelum berpisah.

Unlike Me...

2009-02-18T18:10:00.007+07:00

a song for you,

the owner of shine & bright eyes;

from the owner of dark and damage heart

There are no guarantees in life...

Not for the present, Nor for the future.

All I know is

That I am here;

Don't know for how long...

I love the way

You live so intensely

Enjoy every minute of life...

With space to swing

Your arms around....

Laughing loudly

Unlike me...

Do you think I'm strange?

Unlike you...

I am not pretending...

There is no time,

Time doesn't really exist.

The past, the present, And the future,

Are all side by side,

Hand in hand.

You move and change,

Yet you go nowhere:

Everything stays the same.

You stare at me,

And ask me questions,

Makes me nervous,

This room it keeps a constant tone

While I'm on a roller coaster

(GA.2.17. As We Know It. Kate Havnevik)

Fear of Dark

2009-02-16T18:20:00.003+07:00

I heard a scream…

The light is out. Something wrong in electric-station for this area, the neighbour-rumor said. Somehow, my nephew was screaming. Very loud. My brother said, his son fears dark. He cries and weeping if his eyes not able to see anything. At that time, I didn’t put any much attention. It did give me an idea: maybe in his next 5th birthday party, I will give him a small flashlight.

***

“Don’t turn-off the light, please,” DonSuk said.
“Why?”
“Just… don’t!”

Previously, he asked me if it’s ok if he stays in the same room with me. We were in some kind of Villa at Mega Mendung for a week. I believe it’s about 3rd month as a trainee in this company. Actually every person has their own room. The building has about 40 rooms inside. Not mention the room scattered outside. But, we are new, and we share the same condition here: no friends. We joined this company in the same time, through the same recruitment system, but he was placed in Surabaya (maybe because I explicitly mentioned not to be placed there…, and he didn’t). Anyway, we met again in that Villa, and I absolutely not object his request. But when he asked me not to turn-off the light even BEFORE I try to, I thought there must be something. And I’m not me if I didn’t try to ask it further…

So he told me a surprising fact. He will be suffocated if the light is out…!

And insensitively I said, “seriously??”

After 4 years in the same college with him, and a full semester doing “Rancang Pabrik” together, I just found-out this thing about him. He doesn’t understand it also. It just happened like that. It will be hard for him to breathe if he doesn’t see the light.

***

We talked about global warming, and suddenly I struck him with a sentence, “There’s a simple thing you can do, actually. Turn-off the light if you go to sleep. Your lamp is always shining six to six, well… even to ten in the morning.” I chuckles. But I feel a déjà vu.

“I cannot sleep if the light out,” he said, “In fact, I can’t breathe in the dark.”

I stare at my house-mate, Dayat, with a word “seriously?” which almost slipped-away from my tongue. Funny, he is the one who said it firmly to me, “seriously!”.

***

Every man has his own fears. But I just found-out that something psychological can result in physical disorder. I mean, I heard it. Many times. But meeting the person in flesh right in front your face? It’s huge.

Suffocated? By the dark? Well, it’s possible. It’s kinda romantic, actually. Just like a patient on a medical series, where she had a sudden heart-attack every 7th may since four years ago. Why? Because someone she loves has been died at that time, so her body is mourning in its own way. So, definitely, there’s a clear bridge between psychological-emotional-feeling with physical (even pathological) symptoms.

In psychological term, fear to dark is called Achluophobia, Lygophobia, or Scotophobia. As we know, a word with “phobia” being a part of it, is a psycho-phenomena which must be root on something bad in the past. Well, mostly. But the point is, it’s not genetic. It’s environment charity for us when we’re very very young. And if we knew what happened in the past and reverse the condition, it can be healed. Theoretically.

Sweating, increased heart rate, nausea, high blood pressure, intense fear, confusion, and a variety of other physical symptoms can accompany a fear of the dark. An important thing to be aware of with achluophobia is that the fear of the dark is very real, and it is a valid psychological condition. It’s like an addict. When one is “sakaw”, the pain is real. It’s not just illusion or fake-behaviour-to-seek-mercy-of-us-so-we-can-give-them-another-drugs. So, there’s nothing to be ashamed for someone who has this phobia.

Some therapists encourage the use of desensitization to reduce the phobia, in which the patient is exposed to darkened environments. Of-course, the therapist presents to provide support. I think that is what Dayat did in previous years. Autodidact..! Some other are finding a way to live with it, but Dayat is someone who have learned to get away from this condition. He fought. Although the path is still far away. As he said, “Dark? It’s fine. But a total darkness? Without any scratch of light? I still can’t handle it.”

Maybe, in the day I fear everything about the future..., I can take him as an example.... Because, hey, what’s the different between dark and the future? It’s totally the same. Both are the unknowing area. THAT is what fears us. T h e U n k n o w n . . .

A Privillege to Pick

2009-02-10T16:21:00.011+07:00

Help me...!

It's not I'm not excited or grateful, but... Anyway, I received an email, requesting my choice over these things. Pick one, the director's secretary wrote. It's a token for you on this company's birthday. So here are the list:

1. New Ipod Nano Chromatic 8GB.
colour based on stock availability

"Well, I like to listen music. But I have my cellphone. It's enough for me. Apple is too much, isnt it? But, maybe Dayat will like it. He was looking for it while accompany me fixing my laptop."

2. Long Champ Le Pliage Small Shopping Bag

material : canvas nylon
dimension : 25x25x14cm
colour based on stock availability

"What the heck is it? A shopping bag? And why would I need it? Whether it's a Long Champ, or a Short Prada, I can't care enough."

3. Kodak EasyShare Digital Camera

Great shots. 10.3 MP for prints up to 30 × 40 in.
(76 × 102 cm) 3X optical zoom
lens. 2.4 in. (6.1 cm) indoor/outdoor
color display HD picture capture.
Face detection. Blur reduction mode

"I have had 2 digital camera and a handycam. Both is broken. I'm not really good maintaining them. So, camera is overrated for me.... But, I still have a dream to have an SLR camera, so I can accompany miruchan's hobby in photography. He always muttered that I dont have a hobby like him."

4. Nokia 5300.

EGSM 900 / 1800 / 1900 MHz and EGSM 850 / 1800 / 1900 MH

262,144 colors true color TFT QVGA

320 x 240 pixels 2" display

Integrated 1.3 megapixel camera with up to 8x digital zoom

Visual Radio, Integrated FM radio,

Combo memory with 32 MB flash and 16 MB RAM

Hot swapable slot for microSD memory card

A2DP to support Bluetooth stereo handset, infrared (IR)

"Gimme the longest list of your spesification. And I won't care. I love my cellphone. And I dont need another one."

5. Fridge

dimension : 473 x 483 x 480

voltage : 220 V.

weight : 15 kg.

capacity : 50 lt.

frequency : 50 Hertz

"I like the idea of having a small-bar-type-fridge. It makes me fells homy and sufficient. I'm an orange eater, so a fridge is a must. Maybe not now while I'm still in the 'kost', maybe later when I have an apartment. Maybe..."

6. Microwave

"Again, a kitchen utensil. But I think its utilization would be very low. Even if I give it to my Mom. Maybe she will use it only for cooking the noodles."

So, can you help me to pick? Should I choose something I need? Because frankly speaking, I dont need those things. Or should I take the one which most expensive??

This is a very nice-hesitation.... Because whatever I choose, I get something. But, hey, my greedy-ego inside don't wanna lose the opportunity to get the best thing. Aargh, if only I can get just the money to buy it, because I prefer to buy some books... and orange juice to accompany my reading time.

Never Grow Up Beside You

2009-02-08T23:25:00.004+07:00

Meeting someone who has been so close to you after two-three years in distance is pretty awkward. You forgot how to act, you forgot what you used to talk. Then suddenly you feel like meeting a stranger. And you not allow that stranger to go deeper. You wish there’s nothing change, but somehow there’s an idea that nothing is ever the same. You try to catch up the news between each other. A question leads to another question. But no question is answered completely…

I believe sometimes I could sit somewhere, staring out the window, or reading again my daily notes in the college, daydreaming about the day we’d see each other again, replaying the scene hundreds of times in my head. You'd give me a big smile, and throwing some dry jokes you used to say. And we can be like three-four years ago…, when I stay and not running away from you.

But…, akhifillah...

To be with you…, is being a child who worships the ground you walk in. To have the same courage and wittiness like you. To put a respect to a father or a big brother you always act so…

To be with you…, is being a boy who really tries hard to be perfect. To be someone who deserved to get an “A” look in your eyes. Being the best boy you ever know.

To be with you…, is being a kiddo who is anxious to be a useful man. To be a helper in everytime you need something. To be someone who’s accountable to ease every burden you have in your shoulder.

But I failed in so many levels. So I ran.

Good people don’t play with damaged people. A man who think about the world cannot cope with a boy who think about himself. A man with a vision will be distracted by a child who annoys.

There’s a moment I really remember when we are not seeing each other. The time when we were going to have a meal for sahur in habiburrahman. At the day, the mabit’s committee was running out of food. And you insist not to have sahur and push me to eat the remaining food. You even refused to share the foods. And helplessly, I ate with a conscious that I was eating coz you told me to, but the ache in my chest really blown my mind.

So there’s an expectation. If only we were not seeing each other, I can grow much better. Then I can be proud to present the grown-version of me. But it failed again, I think. Because, maybe people change, but the feeling is not.

Otanjoubi omedetou, abiya. You are a very patient brother for a complicated person like me. I really wish you always be healthy and have a lot of energy. That is what you need to contribute to the world, isn't it?

The 1st Seven Deadly Sins: Pleasure without Conscious

2009-02-05T18:34:00.002+07:00

Pleasure. It lies on some materials like movies and books. For some, it’s irresistible.

Movie. Eight among ten people like movie much better than books. No wonder. It indulges us with visualization, something lack in a book. It serves us a pleasure for not moving anypart of our body and just be… entertained. Even for some movie, you don’t need to use your brain.

I know a guy who turn-out to be a walking-movieclopedy. Ask the title; ask the actor and the actress; ask how good the storyline, I bet he knows and has a trustable opinion. Maybe, for him, there’s a pleasure there. Knowing that there’s so much amazing story out there which much better than his boring daily life (hehe). I believe he goes to movie not less than once a month.

As for me, I was just intoxicated by a neat, presentable twisted plot and psychological-driven action. Something which gives me some quiver thought and feeling at the end of story. Or maybe I just wanna be relaxed by a beautiful picture and funny cartoon. For now, I really waiting the coming of the fifth season of Lost, a series that even my movieclopedy don’t know about. Anybody knows the series? I’m badly need someone to share all amazing things about it.

Books. It’s addictive. And I meant literally. Do you know what makes it addictive? The SMELL of the new books. Seriously. In every page, it gives a new sensation for our nose. Something lack in a movie. And of course, it gives us a giant door for a game called IMAGINATION. How to visualize the setting by ourselves, or how to make our own good-looking protagonist, or how to feel the breeze surround us when we read it. It’s more toxic than a movie.

And that is how I indulge myself. With movies and books. But somehow, recently, I feel bad about wasting my money for going to theatre…, or buying some pirated DVD’s…, or buying lot of books that I know maybe I won’t read it in the future. There’s a guilty feeling.

So I don’t go to theatre again since the beginning of 2009. Well, it’s easy. Since I never met my movieclopedy since then. But when I came to a book-store, and found out those books in 70%-discount…, I can’t resist myself. I bought all the title. Just imagine…, a new-printed-version of Agatha Christie’s books is priced ten grand rupiahs only. I’m helpless.

Define Me About Love...!

2009-02-04T17:50:00.002+07:00

I was reading my book when I got a text message from my old friend who has just married. No, not the one I attend the wedding. He doesn’t speak to me anymore…

“I thought there’s something special about love and marriage. But, no. I’m not experiencing flowers rain like Andrea Hirata has in his childhood. There’s no much blushing cheek or dag-dig-dug feeling. Tell me, is there something wrong about me?”

It’s a long text. I know. And directed to the wrong person. Not because I didn’t see his wedding, but because I’m not in his position. A husband, I mean.

So, I just replied, “I don’t know. You ARE the married one.”

“Come on! Give this man a little clue. Hyperbolic things in the movie are not exist, right? But still, love is supposed to be something special, right?”

He still insisted. It’s hard to play my finger in the keypad. Because I’m afraid I’ll broke something. Not the phone, but the marriage and the love between them. But, hey, my words are too cheesy to make that impact. After all, he’s the one who asked, so I put my doubt aside… And I said,

“No, the hyperbolic things in the movie are a big part of love. And, yes, love is supposed to be special. Your heart should have been pounding. Your eyes should always be staring. Your ears should have listened a grand-orchestra in every word she said. Your skin should have been quiver in every touch, even if it’s only a small punch in the arm. You should be like the drunken student who don’t know how to drunk. Fly high like the narcotics victims. You should have felt so afraid every time you left. Afraid of not seeing her again or even just a minute come home late.”

No reply. And I can back to my reading. But somehow, I can’t focus. Thought about it again. Maybe, for some, love is the opposite of what I said. Love is just the calmness after the tiring searching. Sometimes with love, this heart is not felt full, but just felt… completed. Maybe love is not supposed to be so special for those who have used to be loved…

I was really firm when I reply the text message, though. Well, big chance I was wrong.

L’enfant Perdu

2009-01-29T12:09:00.002+07:00

Sembilan orang berkumpul hampir melingkar di ruangan itu. Sang pemimpin sudah semakin bijak dan buncit. Anaknya sudah lima tahun sekarang. Lincah. Membuat seseorang yang dulu kuhadiri pernikahannya di Jogja tersenyum menanti kehadiran buah hatinya yang pertama. Sekarang sudah amat sulit membuat janji dengannya. Tidak seperti dulu yang hampir setiap hari kita bertemu.

Di sebelahnya, ada pengantin baru dengan senyum terkembang. Saat berjalan-jalan di area UPI, dia bertanya satu hal yang tidak pernah kukira keluar darinya, “Ganda, bahagia itu apa ya?”. Aku terkesima. Dia berubah. Tidak seperti lelaki yang kukenal sebelumnya. Lelaki-yang-tidak-pernah-berbicara-mengenai-emosi sekarang membuat lelaki-yang-selalu-bicara-tentang-emosi terdiam. Skak mat…!!!

Ada yang berubah di lelaki keempat yang datang belakangan. Dia memakai kacamata. Tampak lebih rapi dan dewasa. Lebih necis, tidak lagi bersahaja. Calon dokter. Bicaranya lebih hati-hati sekarang. Kami semua sudah menduga, suatu saat, dia akan tampak berbeda. Ternyata baru terbukti di tahun kesembilan.

Di sebelahku, lelaki kelima masih terlihat seperti yang dulu. Cerah dan penuh humor yang kadang tidak kumengerti. Dulu, kupikir, dia adalah seseorang yang paling siap untuk berpoligami. Tapi ternyata, sampai sekarang belum ada satu wanita pun yang diperistri. Belum ada izin orang tua, katanya. Ah, batinku, bahkan Allah menghadirkan ironi bagi saudaraku yang satu ini. Masih kusimpan Al-Quran berbahasa Turki untuknya, sesuatu yang dia titip tapi tidak sempat kuberi.

Di seberang tempat duduknya, lelaki keenam senantiasa tampak bercanda dan mengembangkan senyumnya. Dia memanjangkan rambutnya. Coklat. Hampir seperti sengaja diwarnai. Dia begitu terbuka, tetapi sampai sekarang aku tidak mampu menerka apa yang ada di pikirannya.

Lelaki ketujuh selalu siap dengan pertanyaan ini untukku. Pertanyaan yang sama seperti yang diajukan adik kembarnya. “Kapan menikah?” Dan jawabanku sama untuk mereka berdua, “Suatu saat nanti…!”

Lelaki kedelapan, yang terakhir datang, ternyata pamit duluan. Dia perlu menemui istrinya yang ditinggal sendirian. Tampaknya, jam delapan sudah terlalu malam untuk kaum adam yang sudah menemui hawa-nya. Malu-malu aku menjabat tangannya. Malu karena aku tidak mampu hadir di hari pernikahannya.

Lelaki kesembilan adalah aku. L’enfant perdu. Membisu sepanjang waktu. Mereka adalah sahabat-sahabat terbaikku. Mereka hadir sembilan tahun lalu. Lalu terpisah dua tahun lalu. Jarak yang cukup terbentang membuat mereka tidak tahu apa yang terjadi padaku dan membuatku ketakutan untuk bertanya tentang apa yang terjadi pada mereka. Andai mereka tahu, betapa besar rinduku pada kebersamaan dulu. Dan mereka ada di daftar tertinggi doa-doaku.

- diambil dari catatan idul fitri yang lalu...

From The Bottom of a Shallow Heart

2009-01-28T20:19:00.002+07:00

It’s absurd. Why should Palestine? Is it because it’s the most famous country in the world right now? (Well, next to Israel I supposed). Or is it because it’s the most spectacular aggression which involved a whole aspect of theology, ethnic, and geopolitics in the century? Or is it just because Palestine is the oppressed Moslem country? And after all our disability in rehab tsunami damage in Aceh, chronic riot in lots of separating area, and unresolved Lapindo, we can still put lot of resources to think about Palestine?

Okay, we have an obligation to save and help our Moslem brothers. But are they the only one of our Moslem brothers? There’s so much poverty and unfed children in Jakarta. And maybe 80% of them are Moslem…, and need to be educated as a Moslem. There’s also Aceh’s people who’s definitely a Moslem needs so much help after what they faced in 2005. And hey, even in our closest country, Philippines, Moro’s people are still not getting their right. Not mention Moslem in Pattaya, south of Thai. Why we are so silence about them?

If it’s about our politic’s strategy, since when “Bebas Aktif” refer to Middle-East? Yes, the Israelis colonialism is not complying with our principle that freedom is the right of every nation. But how about crisis in Myanmar? Or Kashmir and Ethiopia? They sink in our sight because Palestine case is too bright for our eyes.

Not mention those Arabs country which actually don’t have any power to stop a little country like Israel. And who are we, small and poor country who cannot even solve their own problem try to do? Yes, Palestine is important. They are daily talk right now. But we don’t have resource to help them. Even would be better if we allocate our small resources to our closest Moslem brother in our own country? Hello, zakat! How is your distribution in this country? Waiting for some other incident of obnoxious kyai and businessmen screwing poor people by throwing them 10-20 thousand with a death risk? Hello, lapindo! How are you doing? Still expanding and reaching moslem’s houses and schools?

Our geopolitics is not beneficial if we’re looking up to Middle East. For Asian, there is Japan, China, and Korea to be shoved hand-in-hand. What has Middle East gave to us rather than Egyptians acknowledgement of our freedom in 63 years ago? So, do we have to waste our limited resources just for Palestine????

Tell Me Some Sweet Lies

2009-01-27T17:23:00.002+07:00

Statistically, people lie two times a day. For kids, I mean. As for adults, the number is five times bigger. This is a big chunk of fact which maybe too much to believe. But I assure you, I count it since I was eleven. Yeah, it’s the result of my little research for my little project by the time I was accepted as the first grade of Junior High School. And I think it’s still valid right now. At least, for people around me…, whether it’s about telling the wrong story, or maybe just lying by omission. The point is, you hide the truth.

Can’t trust the number? Well, try to count yourself.

Ever say “I’m fine” while actually there’s something wrong about you?
Ever say “I don’t know much” while actually you knew better and decide not to say anything?
Ever say “I like it” while actually you just love the psychology-fact that you’ll be liked by them by liking something they like?
Ever say “I remember” while actually you just have been reminded when [s]he asked you whether you remember or not?
Ever say “Yes” while actually “No” is the word you WANT to say?
Ever say “I think about it also” while actually there are never a chance you ever think about it?
Ever say “sorry” while actually you’re not really apologizing but only obeying the common ethics in society?
Ever say “it’s ok” while actually you’ve been hurt by someone?
Ever say “I understand” while actually there’s still pretty much question aroused?
Ever say “I can” while actually you’re still figuring how to do it by yourself?

See?

So why would people lie? I think we all know the answer. Because the truth is freaking hurt. To admit that we are not fine, or that we don’t like something they like, or that I don’t remember something about people we love…, means we hurt them, and the hurt is reciprocally felt harder for us, because we are the CAUSE.

My family has thrown me a BIG fact about THIS family when my dad died. Something that I never think it would happen to me as been happened to Walker family. Some people will say, wow, your life, or this relationship, is built above lies. Well, it’s a bull. I CAN live in that “lie”. And really, I prefer to not knowing that “lie”. We aren’t hurt if we never know that “lie”. And if that “lie” is not related to ideology or something scientific and principle about my God and this universe He Created, I prefer to be lied forever.

But no, my family said, I won’t grow-up if I don’t accept the fact. They made the choice for me. To take the painful chunk of information I really don’t see how it can make me grow. To know something hidden from me a whole my two-decade life. To accept that I have a bunch of half-brothers and half-sisters out there….

So, people…. My dearest friends….
Please. Don’t make me know what lies you’ve been said to me. As long as it doesn’t make me do damage to others, keep lying! I’m a weak person. And open up lies don’t make me stronger. Sometimes I know that you lie, but I prefer to pretend that you said the truth and live with it. And I do, feel stronger because of it.

Optometrist

2009-01-24T12:42:00.001+07:00

Do you remember the eyes inspector or any-name profession for someone who check your eyes whatsoever I’ve told you about?

Well, I know the name, now.

We can call him OPTOMETRIST. What a fancy name, isn’t it? Although, for some profession, it’s the same case as calling a shrink by PSYCHIATRIST or shouting a jobless painter as an ARTIST, or naming someone who creates useless invention as SCIENTIST. Well, anyway, it makes him as prestigious as ANTROPOLOGIST, or ONCOLOGIST, or DERMATOLOGIST, or any other –IST. If I were that guy, I will be proud to have that title. Sadly, almost no one knows the name. More even devastating, almost no one cares, I think….

'Coz Every Step is Pounding Like an Earthquake

2009-01-23T10:52:00.005+07:00

Just stand-up from his bed…,
Slowly reaching the towel heading to the bath.
Baby steps…
Cause every step is pounding like an earthquake in his head

Last night fever was not a nightmare
And surely it doesn’t easily pass away

It was four ante meridiem…
Morning-attack covered in silence…

As he touched water, an urge to vomit was distracting
At sudden a cold air rush-out through every pores in his skin
The whole-body’s macro-motion is freezing

He wants to cough, but it stuck in the throat
Thus he bite his lips till it bleed

He was there…
Under the dark…
Lying curled in the middle of the room like a fetus…
Cold sweat flooding from his head…
Fresh blood drying in his lips…
Unable to move but shaking unrested

He was there…
Just breathe and hold the pain…
Wondering, why it feels so damn right and deserves to get something like that
No foods, no drugs, no drinks
Just accidental sleep and continuous breath
He tortured himself that day by some-reasons he knew no one able to believe

Because We Can Say YES for a WAR

2009-01-15T20:16:00.003+07:00

Remember when Arjuna put his bow on the ground? He kneeled and cried. Devastated on the war which has been begun. In the land of dry and summer, land of Kurusetra, two big families stand as a bipolar. There he was, battle by battle with his own brothers. The reason why he felt a bit hesitance. But The Grand Krisna put a word upon him, “They’re not your brothers anymore.” It swapped away Arjuna’s doubt. Leaving Bharatayudha means running away from a big mission: Revive The Justice. And for a knight, it’s a BIG NO for escaping. Then he pulled again his bow, pointing his arrows to Kurawa.

Have you watched Jack Shepard decided to stop escaping and start to fight “The Others”? It’s our right to live in this island, he implied. While he only had three guns to confront three ships of soldiers, he still stands on his words. Although it means he should sacrifice three of his people to save the remaining LOST people in this island which claimed as theirs by “The Others”. Then the war is inevitable.

And if you said that there’s nothing good in a war and it should be stopped in any cause…, well, yes, you may think that I’m agree with you, but no, until the justice established, no body have right to order Palestinian to put whatever weapon they have and surrender to disgusted people who bombed their home, pouring hazardous-chemical to their head, and robbing a stone from their children.

“Fight in a way of ALLAH against those who fight against you, but begin not hostilities. Lo! ALLAH loveth not aggressors.”

(Al-Baqarah [The Cow], 189)

A Tale of Disconnected Place

2009-01-12T20:00:00.002+07:00

This place is not exactly the same with what I was projected. It looks more like a school. Well, a quiet school. It has pretty much white room. People are here and there. But most of them do not do anything. They are just…, what is the word? Contemplating…! Yea, they do. This is a very neat school with a lot of adult students contemplating. One of them is my sister. A cousin. A daughter from my mother’s sister.

Her age is almost twice mine. Never thought that we have those huge difference. he’s the one who told me for the first time that I am a smart kid. It was when I was four. And I believe it blindly. Bragging it to my brothers, although I realized then, after I passed my junior high school, it was just because I always win the game when I was four. A game when we describe one thing, hint-by-hint, and our opponent has to guess it. A boring game for me right now, but surely a challenging one at that time. We were close. As far as I remember. Until she went to that place.

Like I said, it’s kinda like boarding school. Not literally remote, but clearly isolated. Fenced from the crowd outside. And here I am, pay a visit to one sister I knew the most. I watch her from the distance. She’s still talking to her husband and daughter. I waited behind a window. I never that close to her husband. There’s a part of me blamed him about what happened to her.

After they gone, I enter the room. She looks pale. Maybe tired. For coming and leaving this room again and again. I know, she doesn’t like being here. I say salaam. She look at me differently. Maybe because I was not here since three years ago. It seems we are separated unreasonably. We didn’t meet during Lebaran. Three of them. We didn’t also meet in other family errands. That’s why my mother sent me here. To attach the connection. It happens that my mother is a strict about silaturahmi. I was her only son with autism to the world.

I say salaam for the second time. She’s not replying. Does she forget me already? Because I don’t. And yes, I missed her. With only two direct brothers without sister, I expect her to be. For a second, she smiles. Very quick, but I knew those lips smile to me. And I was so relieve when she finally say, “Ade?”

I approach her. Sitting next to her. But suddenly she cries. Uncontrollable cry. I am shocked. I don’t know what to do but only asking, “what happened?” And a women took her to her room. I am told to visit her next time. She’s tired.

I know I shouldn’t have expected much. So I leave that place. I’ll be there again later. I walk to the street slowly, questioning. What kind of burden makes her like this? What we, her family, supposed to do to make her leave this place? I look back to the building. I know this place earlier than I know ITB, BIP, and Gramedia. And some people just mock all people to become one of the residents. For a residence called mental institution.

Some people said, madness is genetic. Once a member of your family have it, then it’s in your blood too. You just need to find the ignition. DAD. The Triangle of Craziness. Depressed, Alone, and Denial. And then here my doctor, suggesting for me to go to a psychologist. Does it makes me one of them who will become those place’s resident?

The Moment We Knew…

2009-01-12T14:24:00.004+07:00

"And that Thy Lord, He is The Goal. And that He it is Who Maketh laugh, and Maketh weep. And that He it is Who Giveth death and Giveth life." (An-Najm [The Stars], 42-44)

It happened so fast. A whole day and night feels like flashing in a blink, except one moment, one second that feels so much longer. I can’t remember the exact date, something I regret about. Maybe 5-6 years ago. But I remember, it’s after sunset in Masjid Batan right across Mathematics Faculty. The faces around are also still clear in my mind. We’re preparing a music performance for our faculty’s sanlat. I reckon the song title is “Kembali” by Raihan. Superstitious person will say, it’s supposed to be a perfect omen for me at that night.

I wasn’t so much involved in that night rehearsal. As if I’m waiting something. And there it was. A call. The black light showed the phone number of my home. It was not ringing. Only vibrating…, and in non-scientific way, it vibrated all of my nerves…, shake my consciousness. By the time it’s happened, I knew. It’s only one single order from my brother. Told me to go home now. I said okay. No question asked…, because I think I knew what the answer was.

Until now, it’s hard for me to figure out WHEN it was happened. Maybe around April, or December, but I am never sure. But that moment.... The moment I knew that something happened, it never gets out from my mind. And it’s getting stronger sometimes. I remember, I entered my house that night, finding a whole family inside. Awaiting. There’s an empty spot in the carpet I knew it was meant for me, so I sit there reluctantly. And my mother’s first words were, “be tough!” I can’t remember the words after that…, maybe because I was not listening. And I was not crying. I was just asking, “Are you okay, Mom?” Then suddenly she burst her tears. That is the time I really wanted to cry, but I didn’t.

The next morning there was nothing unusual. No funeral, no guest coming. It was only me and my family recited Yaasiin. Above all my question about what really happened, at that time, I just realized that my father won’t be able to come to my graduation.

This week, those moments is deliberately attacking me again. Because of the picture. And I think I know that kid has known the moment…. The moment he has to let go his mother. And the same question raised, “Why it should be like that?”

But somehow, I admit. I was circled by my own trouble. By my own problem. Which is far far away from the tragedy happened in Palestine. Never thought that the world is full of tragedy. It makes me realized that I’m an idiot, because by looking at my brother in Gaza…, all my troubles seem so minor in comparison, though I know, the test is different for every person. Low tragedy can feels so sad for a low person, I guess.

“And call not those who are slain in the way of Allah ‘dead’. Nay, they are living, only ye perceive not. And surely We shall try you with something of fear and hunger, and loss of wealth and lives and crops; but give glad tidings to the steadfast.” (Al-Baqarah [The Cow]: 153-154)

Grow A DAY older…

2008-12-23T08:42:00.005+07:00

Sometimes our body betrays us in a subtle way. They keep growing in part we don’t want to grow, as the wrinkles and the white-hair also come in two-three decades earlier. Oppositely, they stop growing in a place we wish to grow. But why we try to find who or what to blame if somehow we realize we don’t really treat our body as nice as our expectation? Realizing how lazy we are to cut our long nails or to simply take a bath twice a day. We betrayed our body at the first place.

As for someone who really desperate to look good in every occasion, it’s kind of torture. He’s not even old, although he’s older than me. But, my point is, for people who are willing to feel the pain in the stomach to fit in a small-size trouser and wandering around the small-hot market wearing a suit, a wrinkle is a disaster. A mirror can change from a bestfriend become an enemy. Maybe worst, considering he’s always make any shiny-reflecting stuff as a mirror, then every shiny-stuff can become an enemy.

Okay, I’m overboard everything. The words, I meant. Because the fact is completely true. Haha!

Let me tell you something, boy! You look as good as you feel. I’m kidding when I tell you that you look old by every skin-fold in your face. No, never. Old is not in your dictionary. For you, OLD is one syllable word for, “Okay, I lived longer. And for sure I’m still alive…!” Trust me. You are FAR from old. You’re boyish, shiny and alive, in a way makes my life more alive. So, maybe for you, you’re getting a year older. For me, you just grow one day older.

This boy has no volume control, seriously. But it is one of his charms. He sings whenever and wherever he wanna sing. No care whether he’s around bestfriend or strangers. Out loud. Never humming. If my other friend does that, I would run away and pretend I’m not his someone, or simply snap him to cut-it off. But, no…, I don’t do that to him. I’m thrilled. I’m amazed on how much he doesn’t care about what people might think about him while he do that. And I just laugh and laugh. This boy is as paradox as me. He don’t mind people’s mind about how’s he acts, but he mind people’s mind about how’s he look.

A question popped from his mouth, “They said, an MBA candidate should be looked well.” I say, “Off course. Anyway, you looked great. Without your jeans, I mean.” But he ACTUALLY worried about his height, something I don’t even ever think about. “Can I go to London Business School if I’m just this tall?” And I’m seriously wanna laugh. But somehow his eyes clearly tell. And that is a slight moment when I saw someone who feels betrayed by his body goes.

I tell you once more, boy! You look as good as you feel. I’m not kidding when I say that it’s a matter which should have never been thought about. They will sorry if they reject you because of that. Hey, you succeeded to join Taruna Nusantara! Then everything is possible! You are tall enough and looks better with that.

As I rethink about it, somehow, I feel there’s a fear behind it. About short-thing? I don’t think it’s a concern for him. It’s a stone to hide some shrimps. What were the shrimps? I don’t know. And I can’t helped him since he acted so not-care and easy-going. Covering all of what he thinks as weaknesses. Even when he gives some affection. It’s weak, he might think. He gives it in a way so people won’t get how much he care. I remember how he gave me Ghirardelli chocolate by saying, “it’s for you. You can give it to someone else if you want.” Whereas, a week before, he excitedly said, “When will we meet? I have something for you from SF”.

Moment of timeless pleasure. The Ghirardelli says. It’s true. As true as my moment with you, boy! Sorry, I don’t have anything to give. Just remembering a simple message from you, that there’s a happy birthday salute that should be said right at the time. And I gave it to you last night. Otanjoubi omedetou…

See the sunrise

Know it's time for us to pack up all the past

And find what truly lasts

If everything has been written, so why worry, we say

It's you and me with a little left of sanity

If life is ever changing, so why worry, we say

It's still you and I with silly smile as we wave goodbye

And how will it be?

Sometimes we just can't see

A neighbour, a lover, a joker

Or a friend you can count on forever?

How happy, how tragic, how sorry?

The sun's still up and life remains a mystery

So, would it be nice to sit back in silence?

Despite all the wisdom and the fantasies

Having you close to my heart as I say a little grace

I'm thankful for this moment cause

I know that you

Grow a day older and see how this sentimental fool can be
--dee

A New Glass for My Life…

2008-12-13T13:58:00.002+07:00

This is my new eyewear. I bought two sets. Why? Because I was in denial.

I have had experience with eyewear since college time. TWICE. But it’s really itchy in my upper nose so I’m not really comfortable wearing it. So by the time my friend broke it, and by the time I lost it, somehow I feel grateful. And the guilty-feeling, for not wearing it although my mom has spent some money into, is just… disappeared….

That is my new eyewear. I am not accidentally bought two sets. Why? Because I was in denial.

I wrote clearly in my mind that my eyes still fine although the doctor said that my eyes is minus 0.5 in the left and minus 0.75 in the right. And I always said, “Oh, just that? Below one? Okay.” Then I decided not too often wear it. One is my psychology number. If it’s still below one, then nothing wrong with my eyes. I still can read, I still can drive, I still can watch. And then it hits me last week when I checked my eyes. He, the eyes inspector or any-name profession for someone who check your eyes whatsoever, is telling me the minus number of my eyes. It’s minus one. I figured out that it’s the time to consistently wearing a glass for my eyes. But the words he told me afterward is hitting me. "But you have cylinder also 1.5". And I said,

“WHATTTTT???"

That is the time I deny it. I think my eyes are still fine. Minus one? I can accept it. But cylindrical? I don’t think so. Cylindrical means unbalance. Blur. And I can’t accept it basically because… my life is not unbalance!! My life is not blurring. I can still hold on my life. Standing still. And so on. And so on…!!

That is my eyewear. I consciously bought it two sets. Why? Because I was in denial.

Hesitantly, I bought the cylindrical eye-glasses. But I bought also the minus-one without cylindrical lens. Just in case. Just in case he was wrong and I was right.

Then I try to wear the cylindrical lens for some days. Funny, the world seems so much brighter, so much clearer. The border of every stuff and letter looks firmer. Even at the first time when I look into my feet through the glass, I feel… TALLER! Seriously!!! In short, it’s better then before. Then it gets into my nerve. Do my eyes have been this damage? Do MY LIFE has been really damaged?

As I know it, my eyes getting worse and worse because I treat them badly. I’m reading in my bed. I watch my monitor closely. I refuse to wear glasses. It is the same thing we do to our life. We damage ourselves. Oh my god! It really is….

Now I have a new glasses for my eyes. Maybe later, I need a new glass for my life. But I know, those glasses rarely heal the eyes. It’s just maintain our eyes to see the rest of the world clearer. And maybe, there’s no healer-glass also for life. We just can regret and live the rest of our life better.

Sekadar Tanya…

2008-12-03T18:48:00.002+07:00

Apakah mental miskin masih menggenangi hati-hati bangsa ini sehingga penurunan harga BBM sebanyak 500 rupiah “saja” diikuti antrian masal mobil-mobil mewah yang tampak sabar menunggu “berkah”-nya?

Apakah jiwa serakah masih tertanam dalam darah bangsa ini sehingga rekor penurunan harga BBM yang terjadi satu kali sepanjang zaman ini hanya dihargai dengan serapah, “ah, cuma 500 rupiah, tidak ada pengaruhnya!”?

Apakah begitu kedekutnya bangsa ini sehingga pengusaha SPBU ogah berjualan BBM lagi karena margin penjualannya berkurang 100-200 rupiah?

Aku harap seseorang menamparku dan berkata dengan optimis, “itu hanya khayalanmu saja!”

The Glass Half-Full Freak

2008-12-02T18:48:00.000+07:00

It’s getting worse. The weather and the earth. The rain and the flood. Musi river (yes, my finger is pointing to that HUGE Musi River) is eager to reach the dry land right now. Even the airport and all main road in East Kalimantan have been covered by brown water from Mahakam. But the TV news bluntly told me that people there come out to the road and playing around. They acted as if God Gives them a seasonal water-boom, a gift for their kids. The mothers were joyfully babysitting. And some fathers washed their cars. By looking the screen, they seemed so… happy. Is it a correct word?

At some point, I really don’t get it. It’s very unhygienic, not that I behave like a snob. But, seriously, you’re diving into the world of salmonella and other bacteria? That is too much! Way too much! Especially for those little boys…, and infants! I mean…, which parent who sends their children into source of dirt and disease? Maybe only those who don’t understand or simply give up to the condition.

They should have screamed…! Or maybe I’m too deaf to hear their voices?

I don’t know. Maybe they’re just looking the glass half-full. They understand the situation. Much more understand than me, at least. Because I still afford to replace some little stuff broken by last year flood, while they may confused how to recover all their losses. And some maybe don’t have any power to change the situation. I did. The day after the flood, I search any information about why this permanent-dry city with HUGE river happens to get a big flood. Even though the fact is, there’s only a miscommunication about the river-gate opening, but still, I moved-out and find a new nest to sleep. I am far of glass half-full. For them, it’s just itching to see them so… accepting.

To see a glass whether it’s half-full or half-empty, for some of you, is just a matter of wording. But we have to realize that our acts are mostly driven by that perspective. It leads us to a different direction. Polarized.

It’s not a matter of right or wrong also. Both are truly correct. But the consequences terribly different and sometimes unconsciously chosen. It defines us. Are we an optimist, or just a lame pessimist?

If there’s someone asking any advice from me, believe me…, I will become the glass half-full freak. I am an optimist for others. As much as they say that they are damaged, I still have an argument to switch their mind. Well, forget about those flood case in East Kalimantan. They were too much! They perceived the glass is almost full. I’m speechless about them. And speechless about the government.

While about myself, most of the time, I see the glass a half-empty. Sometimes even bottomless. Only the glass and the air. And I have to ask water from someone else to make it full. Then it pours and pours endlessly. And I wonder if there’s someone who doesn’t stop pouring.

Before The Night...

2008-11-27T18:25:00.002+07:00

It’s already 6 pm.
I… A-M… G-O-I-N-G… H-O-M-E…. Yay!

As I opened the office door, I noticed the sun hadn’t sunk yet. No stars. No moon. No shivering cold. I could think of three possible explanations:

One.
The earth had stopped rotating and I am stuck in the bright-side of the earth. In order to check it, I look at my feet. Great! It’s still in the ground. I’m not falling, not either flying. So the earth must be still turning. Confused? Well, I’m being logical right now. It’s a matter of centrifugal force. And gravity, of course. But you may look your textbook in high school then. (Then you’ll find why people accused me as a smart-a#$)

Two.
The earth moved slower than it used to be, probably because the earth is heavier since there’re already too much people who born… and die. Yes, if I try to calculate how many body masses this earth has buried inside, I think it’s 6 million times of total weight of all people who’s now still live. It would be 6 million times because I assumed Adam lived 6 million years ago. So, if the total population of the world currently is 5.4 billion, and the weight average of people is 40 kg, then the total body mass inside this earth would be 6 x 10^6 x 5.4 x 10^9 x 40 kg = 1.296 x 10^18 kg. It’s not including zillion animals though. And how much is the weight of the earth now? What an absurd number, isn’t it?

Three.
Maybe the moon was coming late. Literally. And I wonder why the girls are panicking if this is happened, whereas actually many girls suddenly have high-temperamental attitude if the moon comes. Hehe. I’m a myth believer. There’s something scientific sometimes there. For this case, maybe because, medically, they loss their eggs. So, my theory is, high temperamental must be related to the loss feeling. Wow, this is a brand-new theory about psychology. Girls who have their cycle tend to be furious due to inside loss they actually experienced. Seriously, how cool is that?
Oh, crap. I’m so out of topic. Let’s rewind.
Maybe the sun is still there because the moon is not appeared yet. Well, scientifically, it’s wrong. Since they have a different orbital, they can catch up each other actually. Hey, how many times we saw the moon during daylight? I believe we say, “quite often”. So, I conclude this is an impossible reason.

You might say, “So, the sun was still there, and you went home before the night come. So what?”
Well, for the truth, I’m not really fond about night. Sometimes it depressed my cortisol, my happy-hormones. But the twilight is even more frustrating. It symbolizes the end of the day. END. FINISHED. NONE ANYMORE. The opposite of sunrise which says it’s a new life, a new leaf, a new page. So, I prefer to see the night rather than a pale evening after a long work-hour. This is new for me. Going home before night. Maybe only the third time in this year. So, yes. This is big for me. To step early at my room while the sun still shines.

As I stepped in, I found my watch lying in my desk. And suddenly the reason is clear. I saw the time from my cellphone…. which I haven’t changed its time zone since come home from Sing. Baka bakashi na…! Maybe going home before night is not really a good idea. It seems make me a little bit stupid.

Be My Guest…

2008-11-24T22:13:00.002+07:00

Six people. Two weeks. They’re all warm and happy. Something happy is in the air around my private personal room… and it’s making me a little bit uneasy. Not that I don’t like… happy…people. No, I love them being happy. It’s just, I’m afraid I’ll infect them something unhappy, which will make me kinda guilty. Mr. Saddy is a little bit more contagious than Mrs. Happy, isn’t it?

Yes, they’re all warm and happy, especially the last person yesterday, which at the same time, (at a mystic way) bring a good weather in the city. They are all here, paid me a visit. One in a row.

They came at different day, almost a person in about three days, as if they’re making an ally and planning to do so, whereas I KNOW, they’re not good if they came together although they’re know each other. They’re living in different circle of friends…, which I don’t see a good reason to mess it up. It’s funny when A called me, “hey, where are you know? Can we meet?”, then I said, “I’m not going anywhere. B is here, anyway! Would you join?”, then A said, “Ah, is that so? Well, maybe later than.”

Tell me something, what is going on really? Have I sending a signal which said, “Hey, this city is remote, very quiet, and sometimes drained by sudden-flood. Check it out and maybe you find me socially-bored and getting edgy.” Ha! I’m kidding. I love you guys. I do. And I really appreciate that you came for far far away to find a clumsy, chatty, needy, and maybe a little bit crazy man right here.

I can’t imagine. Six people. In three weeks. It means six hi and six goodbyes. Maybe some of it is not a GOOD goodbye. It’s terrible goodbyes. Sorry for that. I know what happened is kinda uncontrolled, but there’s no one to blame. Some of it is a rush goodbye. I have to work the other day, while they seems wanna hang-out some more. Regretting also for that.

I DID get some great goodbye. It is great because I knew, I will keep waiting and cherish their coming. It is great because they left me with a load trace of happiness. Thanks for all. I change my mind then. Mr. Joyful is actually more exciting than Mrs. Agony.

Addendum:
1. This is a crappy writing, since nothing I wanna say but this: “Be My Guest…, literally…! Then I will serve you everything,” as my gratitude for your full-of-effort-visit. But what the heck. I’m gonna implode if I’m not writing it (since I cannot say it directly for some).
2. It’s strange. Two of them are asking me to take them to barber or some hair-salon. I said, “This far, and you just wanna cut your already-short-hair?”
3. Actually my mission is to entertain one of them. ENTERTAIN. What a fancy word. But I’m truly sorry. This city is under-construction, I may say. There’s no bowling arena, no huge mall, no artistic place, no art-center, no great university or other thing I can take you to. But I really hope you enjoy it. I may not succeeded to entertain you, but you were succeded to make me ALIVE. You’re happy when I’m happy, you said, rite? So, in proxy, I’m not a failure anyway… (ha!)
4. This consecutive visit makes me ask my self. Am I really a good friend all this time…, or I had just lost for them to find?

A Natural Mistake

2008-11-20T20:09:00.003+07:00

The rain is pouring hard outside. So dark tonight. A cup of hot Darjeeling Tea and Tim-tam Chocolate Cookies are a great companion right now. A warm blanket and a nice sound of string of guitar are also a perfect combination. That’s how I manage something to meet my expectation in a cold-silent-moment. Enjoying the frozen time. Easy. Much easier than managing life to always deliver our expectations which surely almost impossible in soooo many ways….

I’m a man with a big box of demands. A natural mistake for someone who want to live happy in this short life. Because every time the world provides something different, I don’t know WHEN I supposed to stop willing the same.

My mom always said, when I was a child, I won’t stop crying ‘till she give me what I want. And I set a high standard. When I wanted a red-power-ranger-backpack, then I must have that. She gave me a power ranger backpack, but the blue one. I rejected it. I believe she spent a day just to get the red backpack as I wanted. How I regret it now, but somehow, I’m afraid I still act the same…. Well, I’m not crying, but surely I will work my ass all day to get what I want.

Then I learned to release some expectations. Some wishes that I know it’s not really important. And maybe, just maybe, to get something bigger we have to let go some smaller pieces. We’re not a child anymore. Not all of our will is granted. We can’t rely on our parents anymore. As matter of fact, we can’t rely on any people anymore, right? (sigh!)

But there some wishes that become a base. A key. A parameter which measure the meaning of our life. A password to open the secret of why we’re born in tears. That wishes are worth to fight.

I believe…, all of us are trying. Really trying. Trying to become these people we see in our head. The image of someone strong, successful, useful, and happy. The “I” version who stand at his best. And the truth is, we are lucky people (well, at least, I am!). We are alive, healthy, and have a little money to feed this body. And in this state, the vision about ourselves whom we want to become is relatively clear. It’s reachable. The path is there. Just right in front of our feet. And we can become it…, if we weren’t preoccupied by unnecessary thing like worries and fears.

So. Does it mean we shouldn’t have expectation? If it does, than I don’t wanna live this life. It’s surely another mistake which became common for us. Because life is nothing but about hope and fear. Maybe some people are too afraid to the future, so they are always saying, “just let it flow like the river”. And then they are switched here and there depend on any type of hurdles came. Yes, sometimes we feel we have to stop planning. But, no, we’re not supposed to change the plan. Let God Do The Job. We’re just changing the strategy in order to achieve our base plan. To be someone strong, successful, useful, and happy.

So I wrote my plan, my wish in a piece of paper. Never shared it to anyone but God. Hoping that He Reads it, and Make it happened or maybe Change it a little bit into something better.

It's 11.11 pm.
I still cuddled up in my bed. This thought is really prevent me to go asleep and force me to spill it to somebody. So I called my little buddy last night. As I expected, he’s still wake up. But then I’m stuck with another topic, and another talks. Which is a good talk. A VERY NICE TALK. Maybe this is how expectation works. Because at that time…, when I’m not expected some nice chat come-out, I was granted one. A chat worth to remember. Like a nice chocolate milk before going to bed. So finally I can close my eyes and believe…, maybe some expectation is not meant to be expected. It’s just have to be come unexpected…!

First Aid for a Lonely Boy

2008-11-18T19:45:00.003+07:00

Human beings are powered by emotion, not by reason.
The essential difference between emotion and reason is that emotion leads to action, while reason leads to conclusions
(Kevin Roberts in Lovemarks)

For a boy, it’s hard to understand why he needs someone else to fulfil his life, as if his life is some stuff with many holes inside. It’s hard to get why he feels something empty growing in his body, even sometimes imagine himself ripping-out all the stuff inside his guts. But it’s HAPPENED. People DO get lonely, sometimes. And when I said “people”, it includes boys and girls.

Each person has his own first-aid-case for this matter. You can shop till drop and found unnecessary (yet expensive) things in your closet at the end of the day. You can suddenly become a corny poet although you knew there’s no talent inside you. You can also throw a tantrum towards anyone and not feel guilty about. Even the most unexpected thing, you are able to do that!

Even boys are wired by a set of buttons. Designed to be pushed like emotion. Then you move and do something as the buttons told you to. It has been programmed. No question asked. The only thing you knew is at the end of time, you will understand which button makes you do that.

Sometimes judgement is just too much for what you have done to fill the gap in your life. But we are still human…, who have to live the consequences. Whether it’s just a regret…, or maybe a load of guilt. Thus, if we chose the wrong first-aid, maybe we feel that we’re not lonely…, but believe me…, the other pain is come.

But, hey, we’re just a boy. Don’t know much about the world. We do what it takes to covers the hole. And this thing about lonely…, it’s a crap we shouldn’t have in the first place. Unfortunately, it comes without any warning sign. Sudden storm under the sun. Not the uproar storm, but a silent storm.

The way I see it, we could deal with it in one of three ways. Option one, we could run. But great possibility we fall and bleed. Option two, we stick around and prepare for the worst wave. But we don’t know if we strong enough or die. Option three, we ask GREATER SOMEONE to heal the hole and pass the storm. Yet realized…, no option sold in fast-food station….

Here Comes The Triumphant...

2008-11-05T19:58:00.004+07:00

He's there and triumph McCain. I'm not Americans, yet I'm so thrilled and contented. I see, when there's a sight of change among bad governance..., there's a hope...! He brokes all race-barriers, shakes his hand with Ahmadinejad-whom-Bush-called-him-terrorist..., and he is friendly to southeast-asia....

I'm so overwhelmed, more than the time HADE couple won the battle in West Java... As if it would affect this country at a snap. But, hey..., there's a hope. For a better America... Let's see if he can give our candidates some sample about what CHANGE is about...!

Speech of Guilt…

2008-11-03T08:09:00.001+07:00

The first rank of the most hateful job is waiting. Especially if you don’t know what or who you wait for, or when will it comes… The worst is, when at the end of the day, no one or nothing come up. Then I realized, it makes a conclusion that the one who makes someone waiting like that is a hateful one.

***

Last year at February 23rd. My rent-house is attacked by the flood. It was a rainy night. Black-out. The water came in silence. Trapped us in our dream. Only some people realized the event, and we are people who didn’t. Our house is in the corner. We woke-up before the dawn, after the water reached our knees inside.

It was getting higher and higher. We decided to get out. We cannot sink in our own house! The water has already reached our chin outside. We keep moving out. Great wave almost drown one of my friend. After an hour, we found 2-floored mosque. At the end of the day, we are evacuated by our company’s rescue team and make us stayed overnight in a hotel.

It’s not only the first flood in Cikarang. It’s also the first flood in my life. It’s a great experience. In a weird way, I am grateful about it. Another thing, because of the flood, it means, I expected someone will refrained to come here.

But I was wrong. He came. He saw my rent-house with a trace of dirty-water intervention. And actually, I THOUGHT I knew he came. I saw some missed-call in my almost-broken-cellphone. But at the first place, I told him not to come. So I ignored it. I ignored him.

Unexpectedly, he stayed a night in a mosque. Maybe the same mosque I stayed during the flood. He stayed, expected me to come and see. But I didn’t. I lived in a hotel and he stayed in mosque under an open-air. For some stupid reason. Because he knows all about me and I refused to be known.

So this is my confession. I’m truly sorry. There’s a kind, assertive, and put-others-sake-above-himself attitude inside me long time ago. But that day, I proved myself that I have changed.

***

Yesterday, I waited for someone who I really expected to come. It’s a simple statement the day before, but I considered it as an appointment. So I refused all the offers that came and prepare for the come. By phone, a cancellation came in the afternoon. At that time, instantly I think about him who maybe worried about me after a big flood, tried to call me and my colleague so many times, visited my factory to ask where I was, and stayed a night with a hope to find a news that I was fine. It’s not only a waiting. It’s also a searching.

The day after, he found where I was and successfully meet me in the hotel. And I said, “Please go home!”

So this is my confession. I know that I’m the most hideous person that time. Maybe until now. There’s a kind, assertive, and put-others-sake-above-himself attitude inside me a long ago. But that day, I proved myself that I have changed. Thanks for all and forgive me.

Eee-vah....???

2008-10-31T18:25:00.005+07:00

It's a little slow at the beginning...
And I was wondering, why there's no dialogue in this movie...? It's already 15 minutes...!

But hey..., that's the point!
Sometimes, we do not need words to understand something.
Sometimes, what we need is to have empathy.
And surely, eyes talk! About what lays behind our heart.

I watched it for the second time... Ha-ha! Nope, not that I have nothing to do or not having other movie to see. Just happy to see and accompany someone watching the film I recommended...

And while I watch it again..., I recon something funny. I love the way some people immitating WALL-E's word, "Eee-vah...!"

Here come the flies

2008-10-30T19:15:00.005+07:00

After the first rain in this season,
Here come the flies…
Ride the light of merry-go-round
Together spilt-out the night sky
Dead at sunrise
Left their wings
Disgrace the earth above

On the tail of the bosses,
Here come the flies…
Drain out all the pride
Put some shames aside
Suck-ups never die
Till they meet the dawn
And found themselves naked on the ground

So not true..., so not true...

2008-10-29T20:08:00.002+07:00

There’s a time when we heard someone says something wrong about us, but we keep shutting our mouth. Not because we have no courage to clarify it…, but we just think that it’s useless for us even just to say that it’s not true. It’s not worth a breath, thus we save some energy for spurting other valuable words. But somehow, those wrong sentences about us are dangling in our mind at the end of the day. And there’s a slight regret that we don’t make it straight from the first time.

Minutes ago…, my colleague from another department (whose higher position than me) said that there’s too much fear from me to speed-up the machine or to start the new plant. Proudly he said that it’s useless if his team has done the project, but my team is not quickly implementing it.
At the days when I’m hale and healthy, I would say, “Is that so? Do you think you have completed the project?”.

Usually he answers it, “well, just try it! You’ll never know what happened if you never tried.”

Then I said, “I did! Didn’t you know that so many problems during the trials? Have you listened to my reports? Or your subordinates reports?”

And when he said nothing but raising his left eyebrow, I would say (only in my heart of course),

“ N I C E …!”

But now, I’m just not feel like to say a word. Yes, there’s a lot of fear from me ABOUT MY LIFE…, but I don’t have much fear about MY JOB…! I understand how it works. And I do my job not because SOMEBODY pushes me to do so. Not because of the board director say quickly do something, I would sacrifice the safety of my people…, the workload of my team…, the waste it would generates after…!

I’m looking into a big picture…! Things not work like a snap! Everything needs consideration and gradual changes.

And I’m looking into the floor…! What is really happened there… The pain of a forced operation with temporary-unstable equipment. The risk of damages due to improper installation.

Tell me again something wrong about me and my job…, maybe I would say something different tomorrow. Or if you still don’t understand and keep burping false-word, I prefer to shut my mouth and take a pity of you.

Young and Rusted

2008-10-28T19:26:00.000+07:00

CLARITY. How many people in their twenties have luxury to get this? Young men’s eyes tend to blur envisioning everything. So much temptations…, too many distractions. The world of black and white they perceived when they were a child is suddenly disappeared. Good thing can possibly hurt them, while bad thing unconsciously bring a hidden bless. They knew that they HAVE to HAVE a GOAL to make a meaningful life. Somehow the way to reach it is never clear. There’re always mist and dust. For some, they don’t even able to see the goal.

Young is twenty something. Because at those ages, changes happened. Information is abundant. Bunch of them. At twenty, it’s the first time they knew that they have another family from another father’s wife which seriously threatened them to let go their father. At twenty one, they graduated and found a new world too fast as they still think as a college guy whereas their boss expected more than an inexperienced kid. At twenty two, they come out to foreign environment that requires more skills, competency, adaptation…, and sacrificing of something they shouldn’t sacrifice. At twenty three, they are no one without anybody defines them. They’re not a friend until their friend told them they are. They’re not a man until their girl told them they are. At twenty four, they lost them selves…

LEARN. We know we have passed those golden ages when as a baby we can absorb anything to our brain. We are fully understood that these grey-cells have been rusted by so many unnecessary information we received for decades. But we are young who grows unlimitedly. And we have more than a pampers to take only the precious influences for us, and to reject the bad one. At least, we know the consequences.

Young is not teenage. Because at those ages, changes are not at their mind, but emphasized at their body. Hair grows. Muscle appears. They are panicking in somewhat superficial as it can be. The pressure is light. Okay, maybe for some people not. The point is, they’re still expected to learn, not to contribute. While young people, are expected to do BOTH…!

CONTRIBUTION. Life is hard and yet we still have to give to others. Poor the young! People expect MORE from them. In their shoulder…, not only their family name laid, but also their nation put a word above it. “You are the future leaders…!” Pressure is their foods to growth, but sometimes they didn’t know, pressure can bury them. Some young man just can’t accept and dishonour this simple formula: you give what you can give…, you don’t give what you can’t give…!

Young in 1928 doesn’t always means that they’re old in this era. They have fight and give us a great message to live the life. Yet I wonder…, why we are so young but easily rusted?

(Im)Perfection

2008-10-21T19:31:00.002+07:00

I’m gazing into something. A big tent. Huge one. Absorbing 25 kW for sound system. 150 kva for lighting. 560 kva for air conditioning.

I’m gazing into something. A beautiful stage. Heart-pounding one. Reflecting a veranda. Under a braided colored fabric. As if the bride and groom will stay overnight there. Looking outside, to the pictures of pyramid behind a dome window. The world of Alladin-Jasmine.

I’m gazing into something. A compact planning. Time to time performance and playback between. Image of amazing movement of laser and follow-spot towards performers. Sound of arabian-japan-aceh music combination. Humanoid is scattered in several place. Funny and intriguing! Gun-smoke composes a mysterious mist above. Convety-gun and firework ending the four-hour drama-script.

I’m gazing into something. Foods. What’s more appetizing? A big box of bento. Plus a small nice pastry. It’s enough to get everyone happy.

It’s almost a half billion rupiahs event. I command it. For the first time. In my hand, I can do much. Better than before. The best. The perfect one.

But as it starts, the vision of masterpiece starts trembling. Some air conditioners are breakdown. It’s getting hot as the day goes by. And the disaster is come. Late delivery of remaining foods. What the…??

Above all anticipation and precise decision…, it’s happen.

I hate imperfection. That’s why, sometimes…, just sometimes…, I hate myself.

When I committed Suicide…

2008-10-19T19:04:00.003+07:00

After so many news about car and train accident during mudik lebaran, there’s a flash news about a man (a college guy) who throw himself into the train. People might ask why he would do that, but I’m able to think a lot of reason without blurting any question. At the same time when my eyes watching and my ears listening the report, my mind wandering into the day I found a sign in the railroad platform….

The words are intriguing. It says, “mind the gap”, but it’s heard like, “are you dare enough to jump?”.

My feet are here. But my brain keep imagining. I walk there, passing the yellow line, hearing people shout to me to be careful, and jump as the train comes. And the train like tears that can’t stop too soon would run over me. The smell of crunching bones and flesh in squealing protest. The blood alone in red.

I’m not questioning why I do that. Whether I’m a brave-man or just a desperate-boy. Alas, I’m figuring out, what will I be after the train struck my body? Does my head be shattered around the rail? And then no one will recognize me again? Leaving the world unknown?

But I was standing there at that day. Yes, I do losing my mind for a few seconds. But I’m grateful that my feet are still there behind the yellow line. No jump, no blood. And no body tried to recognize my face in this lonely place. The train was come. I pulled my self completely. The doors were opened automatically. I stepped inside with a shivering feet. There’s nothing happened except the doors closing back.

That’s why I feel that I know. About the thought before the guy in the news jump into the train. About the messiness of mind assuming that there’s no way-out for his problem. About the feel of alone that no one could help him or even understand what happened to him.
That's why I never committed suicide. Because I never alone.

That man is just a boy. Not more than 20 years old, but brave enough to cut his own life. Have he ever thought what I thought? The way the world moves after his act? Surely, everybody knows his story after this. But has it solves his problem?

I’m also asking myself, has he ever thought about the way he will cut his own life? Why does he choose the painfully way by against a train which surely win the battle?

The train in Kuala Lumpur at the morning is really quite. I sit there. And I see my self fall in slow motion. The bones one by one cracking and forcefully misplaced because of the crash. The blood flows through every holes in the body. In my perfect manner, I still able to imagine an accident towards this train. And I’m inside, thinking about that.

Gravity

2008-10-17T18:26:00.003+07:00

# : So, if I get a job in Jakarta. Should I take it?

$ : Sure.... Hold On. Maybe it’s better for you to remain in Malaysia.
# : Why?
$ : So I won’t get bored looking at you. :)
# : It’s not a cool comment.
$ : Then what you wanna hear? :)

“At the end of the day…, when it comes down to it…, all we really want is to be close to somebody…. So this thing where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other…, it’s usually a lot of bull...”

***

% : The first time I know you, I think you are annoying.
# : Me? When am I being like that?
% : Almost everytime
# : Ow, then after a few while, you know that I’m not?
% : No…, You’re still annoying.
# : Liar. Then why you’re not stand far from me?
% : I’m just getting used to.

“So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to.
And once we’ve chosen those people…, we tend to stick close by.
No matter how much we hurt them.”

***

# : Let’s go find an aqua tank and some water-plant.
! : Why? What for?
# : I wanna make an aquascape…
! : Wait. What’s that?
# : It’s like an aquarium, but the main living thing there is water-plant, not fish
! : Sugoi!!
# : So, you want to accompany me?
! : Sure…

Before we arrived at Sumenep, my rearview mirror struck a man’s arm. That is the first shock for us. We still wandered at the aquarium’s store. About 40 minutes. But we’re leaving it without buying anything. We planned to break fasting in Al-Azhar. But I think I lost my concentration that day. I’m too exciting meeting someone I’ve never seen for so long. The consequence, I bump into a taxi. That is the second shock for us. I do feel guilty for all what happened.

! : Don’t kill me. I’m still young.
# : I’m not trying to.

Because of it, we take a detour to a small resto in Mampang. We’re going home very late since I hastily dealing with a marketing of one property. I thought, that day I have ruined everything. But we still have a good time that day and the day after.

“The people that are still with you at the end of the day…,
Those are the ones worth keeping.”

*) on italic: Meredith Grey (3.10)

What We Care About…

2008-10-16T20:56:00.004+07:00

AIDS
“It’s there to punish people who can’t control themselves. I am not really nice, but I’m not a bad person. It’s not a threat for me.”

Bombing
“Indeed I’m afraid. That’s why I live in ordinary. I don’t do PUB or DISCOTHEQUE. I don’t play CHURCH or MOSQUE.”

Corruption
“It’s impossible to quickly eliminate it. It’s already in our blood. Kill us massively if you want to end it.”

Demonstration
“Just shout! They NEVER listen to you…!”

Election
“I’m neutral. I have two wings of my own. I am PRO Islamic, I am PRO republic, I am PRO socialist. And when I say PRO, it means ‘let them be…’!”

Fallen-Plane
“It’s simple. Never take a plane. Go shore. At least, the crash doesn’t always make you die…!”

Global Warming
“Well, I know that Kilimanjaro has lost its snow. So What? I don’t live there and I don’t like winter anyway…!”

Hamburger
“I love it. Heck with the wealth of traditional culinary. I eat it when I like it!”

Illiteracy
“God make them to classify. Because not everyone can become a rich people.”

Jakarta
“An exciting place to hunt. Money is what I’m talking. And I don’t understand why this nation prohibits urbanization.”

Kerosene
“Ow, what’s that? Anyone still use it? Come On! It’s LPG era…!”

Labour
“Just keep sending them abroad. They are happy. Their family is happy. So does the government. And since it reduces the crowd in the country, I AM HAPPY…!”

Malpractice
“That’s why you should have trust no one.”

Narcotics
“Some people need relaxation. As long as they not intrude others…, why bother???”

Opportunist
“We need some of them. To make other people not too much thinking about something. It leads to extreme fanatism and tiring debate.”

Poverty
“If there’s no one poor, then who will do the laundry?”

Qualification
“It’s an excuse to fire people from their job and to reject them before they get the job. Whereas we know, some job doesn’t need qualification…!”

Racist
“Make them as President. This nation would be better.”

Smuggler
“It gives us a chance to get some good stuff which the government banned. Then let us be grateful because of them!”

Tobacco
“Sniff it. A moment with a whiff of it is precious. Die due to lung-cancer worth it.”

Unemployment
“I think people are smart enough to get some money. It’s a natural. Even though they’re illiterate. As long as you need money, you’ll find a job. Whatever it is…!”

Violation
“There’s no hero without it, right?”

Witchcraft
“The final way-out for any heartbreak, vengeance, and desperation. It’s simple, fast, and unknown. Love it!”

X
“Just take a chalk and draw it in the picture of someone you hate. Then take a knife. Stab it in the middle!”

Youth
“Have Fun, Go Mad! It’s the perfect moment in the life you mustn’t neglect.”

Zero
“As long as it’s not in your wallet, it’s OK for it to be in your brain. Cherish it!”

People (don’t) CARE because they (don’t) KNOW
People (don’t) KNOW since they (don’t) ASK
Then why ASKING something is considered as ANNOYING??

The Real Forgiveness

2008-10-15T18:41:00.004+07:00

(Di Indonesia) tampaknya bulan Syawal tidak jauh berbeda dengan hari Valentine. Ada aktivitas yang dipopulerkan di waktu itu meskipun sebenarnya aktivitas itu adalah aktivitas sepanjang masa. Satu aktivitas yang bisa dilakukan kapan saja kalau diniatkan. Dan semakin tuanya bumi, aktivitas yang populer pun diidentikkan dengan hari tertentu dan menjadi budaya yang tak terlepaskan. Saat valentine, berjuta anak muda berupaya mengekspresikan rasa cinta pada semua orang, sedangkan di hari Idul Fitri, jutaan muslim (bahkan juga nonmuslim) sibuk bermaaf-maafan.

I don’t say as if it’s something bad. Sebaliknya, bagiku, dengan adanya budaya tersebut, orang-orang dimudahkan untuk melakukan sesuatu yang sulit dilakukan. Bukankah survey dunia telah menyimpulkan bahwa tiga kalimat yang paling sulit dikatakan adalah [1] I love you, [2] thank you, dan [3] I am sorry? Nah, dengan adanya “kelaziman” bahwa di hari anu semua orang berucap kasih dan di hari lainnya semua orang berucap maaf dan memberi maaf, maka beberapa orang yang memang pada dasarnya sulit mengekspresikan kata-kata itu akan merasa lebih mudah untuk melakukannya di hari tersebut. Sisi jeleknya (yes, I always think there’s something wrong about everything which called “easy”), bisa jadi, kata sayang dan maaf yang diucapkan hari itu, tidak setulus yang kita kira….

***

Sejak kecil, aku selalu bertanya-tanya. Haruskah kita mengikuti antrian orang-orang yang saling bermaafan setiap habis shalat Id? Aku tidak mengenal sebagian besar dari mereka, dan mereka pun tidak mengenal aku. Lalu apakah yang perlu dimaafkan? Ibuku bilang, jangan berpikiran begitu. Bisa jadi, di satu masa di satu tempat dulu, aku pernah melukai atau dilukai orang secara tak sengaja. Siapa tahu orangnya shalat di mesjid yang sama. Tapi kupikir, bukankah jika tidak sengaja, maka itu bukanlah dosa? Dan kalaupun itu dosa, apakah dosa itu dimaafkan, sedangkan kita bersalaman dan saling meminta maaf atas satu kesalahan yang tidak kita ketahui sebenarnya apa?

Maka sejak sepuluh tahun lalu, setiap selesai shalat Id, aku selalu tiba di rumah lebih dulu....

***

Semakin besar, perkawanan pastilah tak terelakkan. Untuk hal ini, aku setuju dan amat antusias untuk meminta maaf (dan memberi maaf) kepada kawan-kawan. Tapi tahun-tahun terakhir ini, aku belajar. Meminta maaf jauh lebih mudah daripada memberi maaf. Hatiku mengatakan, ”Sudah jelas! Kamu orang egois dan pendendam”. Tapi, aku tidak bisa menerimanya! Masih ada sesuatu yang janggal. Maka aku coba memahami benar apa sesungguhnya di balik sebuah kata ”maaf”.

Seringkali, kalimat maaf memang terucap, tapi perasaan marah atau kecewa seringkali muncul lagi. Teringat perkataan Quraish Shihab, ”Memaafkan berarti Mengatasi amarah terhadap si pelaku yang menyebabkan kita marah atau kecewa. Dengan memaafkan, tidak berarti kita menafikan hak moral untuk mendendam, melainkan mencoba menawarkan kepada pelaku kasih sayang, kebaikan, dan cinta kita. Jadi memaafkan adalah melepaskan hak yang kita miliki untuk marah.” Aku hampir menangis saat itu. Meratap betapa tidak adilnya ”memaafkan” itu.

Baru rasanya aku sadar, bahwa memaafkan lebih dari sekadar meredam amarah, karena itu berarti masih ada amarah yang akan muncul ke permukaan saat aku kehabisan energi untuk meredamnya. Aku pun paham, bahwa memaafkan bukanlah melupakan. Otak (setidaknya, otakku) akan mengingat kejadian menyakitkan untuk waktu lama. Kadang-kadang, aku pun masuk ke fase pemakluman dan pembenaran, dimana kuyakinkan diriku sendiri kalau si pelaku kesalahan tidaklah benar-benar salah, atau melakukan hal itu dengan sengaja, atau memang pada saat itu kondisi tidak memungkinkan untuk melakukan kesalahan. Sayangnya, hal ini pun tidak bertahan lama.

Selama maaf versi Quraish Shihab itu tidak terlaksana, maka yang hadir adalah aura negatif. Betapapun dulu kita mencintai si pelaku kesalahan, maka yang ada adalah sikap menghindari, atau tidak peduli dan seolah-olah si pelaku tidak ada di dunia. Ketegangan dan kekakuan yang intens pasti selalu hadir dalam perbincangan. Maka, siapa bilang maaf itu mudah?

Mengatakan “Aku memaafkanmu.” tidaklah cukup. Kita perlu melalui suatu proses yang panjang. Yang pertama adalah memahami sejauh mana luka dan amarah yang ditimbulkan. Bisa jadi, hal itu ternyata sepele..., atau sebaliknya, semakin dipikirkan, semakin menyesakkan. Barulah dari sana kita MEMUTUSKAN untuk memaafkan. Tahap ini sesulit memulai langkah pertama dari sebuah rencana, karena pada saat ini kita MEMILIH untuk melepas hak kita bahkan memberi HADIAH maaf pada orang lain. Seringkali, kita memilih untuk tidak SEPENUHNYA memaafkan..., karena pada satu titik kita berpikir, ”Hei..., this is so unfair. I’ve been hurt. And now I have to give...!” Dan seringkali kita tidak mampu membayangkan betapa leganya hati ini saat kita benar-benar telah memaafkan. Yang tidak kita ketahui adalah, amarah itu mengkonsumsi hati dan energi kita. ”Keadilan adalah saat si pelaku merasakan apa yang kita rasakan”, begitulah yang terpatri di benak kita. Jadi, memaafkan bukanlah sesuatu yang mudah, bukan?

Aku pikir, ”memberi maaf” itu sulit, bukan karena seseorang pendendam atau tidak. Ada proses yang lama di sana. Proses yang dikendalikan oleh seberapa besar kerusakan dan sakit hati yang terjadi, dan dipengaruhi pula oleh sejauh mana keridhaan seseorang untuk menerima kerusakan dan sakit hati itu..., lalu melanjutkan hidup apa-adanya.

The Insider

2008-09-23T17:30:00.002+07:00

His name is Psyche. Invisible if you just count on your sight. Why? Because he's always terrified. Always try to hide-out. He feels insecure, but he has too much pride. He does everything to make sure that people won't ever know what's the secret beyond his life. He thought that he might die in shame if someone found it out. But yes, you can see Psyche..., if only you use your emphaty inside your heart.

His name is Atman. He is passionate about something he likes. He does everything to get what he loves. He's affectionate yet dangerous enough to drive us to the goal he has set-up. Yes, he is perfectionist and never forgets to ensure that his effort is worth much. The greatest fear for him is failure. And when it happens, he will take back the losses he got.

His name is Soul. He can't speak, but he can listen. Even for the lowest voices in the world. That's why, he knows the sound of lies and the noise of truth. He can tell us, but he can't speak. He can't speak, so he whispers. But some of us just don't dare to hear.

His name is Anima. He was born alone and placed in some space that no one around. The silent ambience is slowly killing him down. So he spends his life to search. Searches someone like his kind to be with him anytime.

His name is Nafs. He loves to fight. Because it's the only way to decide. Between light and lust. He didn't know who's to be held. He just follow the strongest side.

These men exist. They're living in the deep. Take a breath, touch your chest, and feel the beat. They're there. Even when we stop breathing, they keep pounding...!

Jumlah Kenikmatan *)

2008-09-10T20:12:00.002+07:00

*) Untuk ika, riska & rifka..., juga untukku sendiri...

Kupikir kenikmatan di dunia ini jumlahnya terbatas. Karena saat seseorang di satu tempat merasakan kenikmatan, ada orang lain yang merasakan kepedihan. Bukankah orang bilang, hidup itu seperti roda berputar? Kesenangan dan kesedihan digilir seperti laut di pantai yang kadang surut kadang pasang. Karena itulah aku semakin mantap menyatakan: ”Kenikmatan itu terbatas! Dia diberikan dan diambil kembali oleh Tuhan bergantian.”

Di bawah langit ini, dengan situasi demikian, hanya ada satu cara untuk mendapat sebaik-baiknya kehidupan. Bukan dengan menciptakan passive income, bukan pula dengan mengabadikan setiap kenangan. Bukan! Kenikmatan bisa datang dan hilang kapan saja. Satu-satunya cara kita selalu berbahagia adalah dengan belajar untuk tidak terlalu sedih saat mendapatkan kepedihan..., dan belajar untuk tidak terlalu berlebihan saat mendapatkan kesenangan. Setiap yang datang ke pangkuan kita hanyalah momen. Semuanya hanya sesaat.

Aku ingat pernah mencatat di suatu tempat, ”ketika memiliki sesuatu, jagalah bagaikan itu milikmu selamanya... namun ketika kehilangannya, lepaslah sebagaimana itu milik yang mahakuasa...”

Setiap kenikmatan datang, setiap kebahagiaan terasa, aku berpikir sebagai orang paling beruntung sedunia. Ibarat lotere, undian itu jatuh ke tanganku. Sekecil apapun hadiahnya.

Masih terjebak di ingatanku, satu kebahagiaan yang pernah tergenggam. Momen dimana kehidupan terasa sempurna. Terasa cukup ini saja. Subuh itu aku memasuki terminal leuwi panjang. Usai mengucap salam perpisahan. Sebelum sempat melewati gerbang, aku berdiri diam. Bernafas dalam. Merekam saat-saat hatiku penuh dan lapang. Aku benar-benar menikmatinya meskipun aku tahu hal seperti ini akan jarang datang. Bahkan tidak akan pernah terulang.

Tiga bulan kemudian, tidak ada lagi salam. Tidak ada lagi semangkuk perhatian. Hanya sepiring penuh kerinduan. Terbukti, apa yang tertinggal sebelum leuwi panjang tidak kembali datang.

Beberapa minggu lalu dompetku hilang lagi. Kecewa tak terkira. Bukan karena uang yang hilang, tetapi karena aku tahu betapa susahnya mengurus KTP, ATM, SIM, dan STNK. Selain itu, dompet itu adalah pemberian yang pasti aku akan berat mengatakan kenapa dengan begitu mudahnya aku menghilangkannya.

Seminggu setelah itu, telepon berdering. Bandung mengabarkan bahwa dompet ada yang mengembalikan. Betapa aku bersyukur lebih besar dari rasa kehilangan yang dulu sempat menyerang. Si dompet dikembalikan oleh seorang pedagang yang mengaku tidak bisa tidur sepanjang malam karena memegang dompet itu, dan berupaya keras mencari alamatku yang amat jauh dari lokasi si dompet ditemukan. Aku pun tersadar, bahwa dengan kejadian itu, aku paham arti memperjuangkan kejujuran.

Begitulah bagaimana kenikmatan hinggap lalu terbang. Secepat kita berucap, kebahagiaan datang, tapi seketika hilang.

***

Jangan bertanya macam-macam, aku geli sendirian menulis kata-kata di atas. Hanya gara-gara membaca tulisan tiga perempuan tentang kebahagiaan lalu menyemburatlah pemikiran-pemikiran yang nyatanya tidak bersandar pada prinsip yang kupegang. Karena sebenarnya aku pun masih belajar mendefinisikan…

Hidangan Makan Siang

2008-09-08T17:09:00.003+07:00

Lelaki itu pernah berkata, ”Turki seribu kali lebih indah daripada Itali”. Dari sanalah pertemanan kami dimulai. Dari sebuah persamaan persepsi. Kami pun berbagi hobby. Kami sama-sama menikmati Istanbul dengan berjalan kaki. Sama-sama membenci yoghurt asin Turki. Dan sama-sama penggemar Jalaludin Rumi.

Sudah lewat setahun sejak kami bertemu di Edirne. Umurnya 27 kala itu, dengan rambut ikal dan keteduhan mata khas pemuda Turki. Sesaat, dia mengingatkanku pada seseorang yang pergi ke Arab Saudi. Sekarang dia datang di saat Ramadhan. Dan dia tampak lebih kurusan. Turun sepuluh kilogram, katanya. Tetapi justru karena itu dia lebih terlihat segar dan ringan.

Kupikir, pastilah berat menjalani puasa dalam perjalanan beribu mil dari mediterania. Lalu kuungkapkanlah simpatiku padanya. Dia tersenyum, dan berkata santai bahwa dia tidak berpuasa. Dia menerima tawaran makan siang dariku. Kukira dia dengan bijak mengambil rukhsah yang disediakan Rasulullah. Tapi dia berkata, ”Aku muslim, tapi aku tidak mempraktekkan semuanya.”

Aku terhenyak. Dan entah kenapa aku merasa semesta menyindirku. Aku terus berusaha, sekeras-kerasnya daya upaya, untuk meyakinkan diriku. Bahwa agama BUKANLAH prasmanan..., yang bisa diambil apa yang kita suka, sedang sisanya ditinggalkan di atas meja.

The War We Lose Every Year…

2008-08-31T23:14:00.002+07:00

There’s a war. Unconsciously we walk through it everyday. But it’s funny how we think that this war only occurred in a month. A month called Ramadhan. We say that Ramadhan is hard. Proudly we say Ramadhan is time for the real battle. We never knew that we say those sentences because we don’t feel any obligation in other months as we feel in Ramadhan.

Have we ever thought that the real battle emerges after Ramadhan? Ramadhan is an exercise month. Almost everyone is aware of it. Thus we are spoiled by environment. While the other months, almost everyone oblivious about it.

But when I rethink it again…, if I lose in every fight in Ramadhan…, how come I will survive in the next months???

Ramadhan, Irasshaimase…!!!
Kono getsu wa, chanto akiramenai.
Kimitachi sa…, aisumimasen.

24

2008-08-26T20:25:00.002+07:00

24 seconds
What can people do in 24 seconds?
Blinking? Yawning? Sneezing five times?
Maybe, if you’re in China, the best thing would be moving from Tian’anmen East to Wangfujing by using Subway…!

24 hours.
What can people do in 24 hours?
Sleeping…. Eating…. Pluck a rose-apple from neighbourhood’s tree and runaway. After that, you can play scrabble with your friend. And yes, you still have time to fight if there’s someone cheating!

24 years.
What can people do in 24 years?
Becoming taller? Growing sideburns?
Or travel around the world? And then pick a country to be a president there…?
Sigh…

***

Have you ever found the light has passing you by?
Have you ever feel like there was something missing?
Even when you knew what to look for, you hardly find where to begin?

Did you ever feel like you didn’t belong?
I used to feel that way…. Big time!
I thought by changing the way I looked, the way I dressed, I could plug all the gaps in my life. I thought I could buy a style… a style that changes me, creates a new me… makes me someone else… Whereas actually, I just want to mend what is broken….

24 months. 24 faces. Inside, there’s nothing grow. Remained a little child. Building bricks outside. But I believe, we all pretend to be something we’re not…. Deshou??

***

He left his home when he’s twenty. Simply disappeared in the rain. A lonely man in a big wild world. In the dark, he found a way to a friend. Bunch of friends. But he’s doing it again. He left. Simply disappeared in the jungle. Lost his own way. Astray.

Not only few people passed him by. They call to him from across the street. But they don’t know his name. He’s in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But who’s to blame? He wonders how to change the life he’s living. He wonders if he’ll ever get away. Somehow, there’s no return way. We live, we learn, and the game goes on and on and on….

He’s getting twenty four. Almost losing 24 things he loves and adores.