So you're there.

Sudden, fleeting

Standing

between smiles and motion

but you're not smiling for me

Aku pernah baca sebuah kalimat: 

Aku merasa paling dekat dengan keabadian saat memikirkan dirimu.
Apa yang akan terbersit dipikiranmu bila mendengar kata-kata ini?

Banyak yang kurenungkan. Dari sebuah kalimat pendek ini spontan aku memikirkan tentang cinta. Klise memang. Walaupun terlihat konyol dan mudah emosi, I've always remained an impossible romantic. Dan itu yang takkan berubah. Tapi kadang, cinta dalam arti luas. Yang aku pikirkan bukan hanya perasaan cinta terhadap satu individu, tapi juga perasaan sayangku kepada orang-orang terdekat yang selalu kurindukan hadirnya. Kemudian agamaku. Tuhanku. Hal ini membuatku bertanya kenapa orang-orang yang kusayang hadir lebih dulu di benakku, baru kemudian Tuhan? Dan kenapa perasaan itu tak bisa sama besarnya untuk agamaku sendiri?

Akhir-akhir ini ada banyak hal yang membuatku ingin mendekat kepada-Nya. Dua kali hilangnya kartu atm, hilangnya dompet adik (yang Alhamdullilah dikembalikan), Bulan ramadhan yang mendekat, tambahnya umurku bulan depan, dan terutama hari-hari yang tak ubahnya kulalui dengan perasaan hampa. Aku memang manusia picik. Diterpa cobaan sedikit saja baru usaha puasa sunah dan sholat tanpa bolong-bolong secara konsisten. Tetapi terlebih-lebih karena ada satu hal yang sedang mengusik pikiranku.
Hari ini pulang dari kelas aku berjalan kaki dari nana sampai rumah di petchburi. Itu yang aku paling suka disini- tersedianya tempat berjalan kaki karena aku suka jalan kaki sendirian. Dan aku suka jalan kaki untuk melihat pemandangan menarik, atau tempat-tempat unik, dan juga untuk berpikir. Tiap hentakan kaki rasanya kurang afdol jika aku tidak mulai mempertanyaan tentang arti keberadaanku selama tinggal di Bangkok ini. Emang dasar sakit jiwa...Lalu entah dari mana, kalimat itu menghantam pikiranku. Hatiku terasa teriris sesuatu yang tajam. Dan bagaimanapun aku mencoba mengabaikannya hal yang pertama muncul dibenak adalah perasaanku saat ini kepada salah seorang sahabatku.
Baru kali ini selama lebih dari 7 tahun persahabatan kita, aku bertengkar dengannya hingga memakinya. Timbul rasa benci dari egoku yang kuakui sebesar gunung timbuktu, mungkin. Dia, salah seorang yang seharusnya paling memahamiku -  telah mencemooh hal yang paling sensitif tentang situasiku saat ini. Rasanya, kok ya sakit hati ya. Kenapa orang yang paling kupercaya bisa setega itu. Rasanya secara impulsif ingin kuhilangkan dia dari hidupku, walaupun aku tahu betul itu sama sekali tidak mungkin. Hubungan kita memang sedari dulu rumit, tapi dalam. Aku sayang dia seperti keluarga. Aku sama sekali tak ingin kehilangannya. Hubungan yang disertai perasaan yang dulu kusandangkan dengan arti keabadian tadi. Tapi sekarang? Betapa anehnya perasaan manusia yang bisa bertahan bertahun-tahun tapi berubah setika dalam hitungan detik.

Aku ga bisa memaafkannya- sampai dia minta maaf. Bak ratu yang menuntut rakyatnya tunduk. Apakah aku masih bisa di bilang manusiawi ya? Hatiku keras. Kenapa rasa tinggi hati ini ga mau hilang? Kenapa aku ga pernah bisa belajar berlapang dada?Forgive my arrogance. God, forgive me. Make me learn to change..

cash & clocks, writers blocks, hedgehogs

Ellie Parker: I remember when the future was a promise; now it's like a threat.


Today I submitted my half assed script. I made it hastily. I made it with my brain half asleep.
Today you talked. I listened. But you don't understand. And I need to understand. How am I supposed to learn, man.
Today I ate McDonald's sitting from above. I watched people walking with fancy clothes, working class clothes, and/or minimum clothes.
Today I noticed the status-quo. High maintained. Stacy-Q's.
Today I witnessed a time bomb.
Today I felt life creeping.
Today I saw my future.

i'm in awe

Sun been down for days
A winter melody she plays
The thunder makes her contemplate
She hears a noise behind the gate
Perhaps a letter with a dove
Perhaps a stranger she could love

bad black moon

the undertones & Billy Joel

borderline

One very late evening in Bangkok, I was lying in my room eavesdropping at my parents that were discussing my future from the living room. Suddenly the phone rang. My dad picked up. Minutes later I hear a very loud; "HAH?????"

Afterwards all I heard was silence. Followed by their voices exchanging a slight argument, but this time they're words were unclear. I hear silence again. Suddenly my dad barges in my room where my sister is sound asleep and myself pretending to be. He lit the room and I felt him stand there for some time before deciding to wake me up abruptly.

"Noy..noyo..bangun"
"Hah... apaan...", I pretend to wake up with a drowsy look on my face.

I looked at him sitting at the end of my bed with a face that was hard to describe. He looked serious but I could've sworn I noticed a faint smile in his eyes. He seemed defeated but somewhat glad. My mom is standing at the door.

"Kamu punya kembar, Noy..."

---

It turns out I have a twin brother only shy of 3 minutes after I was born in Sofia, Bulgaria. The truth was my mother always thought she yearned for a boy but didn't know she was expecting one, and later didn't know what to expect after surprisingly giving birth to one. Every sonogram pointed to a girl and he just assumed she was carrying a fat baby girl. Or maybe I was covering him up. Right then and there after that particular delivery she was mortified. As the doctor held him in his hands to show her it was a boy, this terrible vision of him growing up to be a cross dresser entered her mind. She only prepared herself for a girl. Another girl. She didn't know if she was capable of raising a boy with three other girls in the house, without him growing up to be non-straight. In horror she made a hasty decision with the hospital to put him up for adoption. What could've been a less lonesome and boring life for us both was taken away right then. And we were separated. I was told that something similar almost happened when she was expecting my little sister. My mom had always been indecisive.

---

I met him for the first time when I turned 20. He visited Bangkok, because I was there. He claims to always wanted to go to Indonesia. He is taller than me, maybe around 6 ft. His skin slightly darker. He wore glasses. He had very short hair that was a lighter shade of black. His face.. besides not owning my trademark full lips, did bare some resemblance to me. It was hard to swallow.

It was hard to conceive that this boy could abruptly come from nowhere and easily claim to be who he was, or accept that my mom gave him away that easily. Why now? and how did he find us? Aren't you angry? Does my mom feel guilt or regret? How can she live carrying this secret for 20 years? I alone assumed the reaction I witness in soap opera's, but to my disbelief him and my mom, and the rest of the family accepted everything like we were welcoming a normal guest. He stayed with us for a month. He doesn't speak a word of Indonesian. He wasn't more talkative then I am. So I did all the interrogating. He was even tempered. He was quiet but calm. Emotionally collected than I was. That annoyed me. He loved physics. He was computer literate, and good at sports. That annoyed me even more. If he was my left side of the brain, we would've made a whole person.

He was raised by a high school math teacher and a piano teacher but other than being able to play the harmonica, he ownes no artistic ability what so ever. But like me he loved to travel. He told me he had strong humanitarian pursuits, and that one of his lifelong goal is to work or even build his own non-profit organization that emphasizes on conserving energy resources in developing countries. It was the only time he started to actually talk. In fact he he started moving to other worldly topics and yapped non stop about all this global economic jargon and seeing rural places in the world. God, is he boring. One thing we had in common was that our love life sucked. He had little self-esteem. For a second I believed that possibly in the womb we were joint at the heart.

My father talked to him about his life and what he wanted to do during dinner, and they kept talking. My brother became interested in his achievements and expressed his wish to gain more knowledge under my dads wing about being a diplomat. My father offered him to stay with us. One thing lead to another, and not long after he decided to go to an Indonesian university to study the language, and do a degree in international relations. My father was beyond thrilled. 'Finally, someone to pass my dreams on.. and go fishing with.'

He claims to want to make up for lost time and get to know my sisters and relatives more. And if I could quote he actually said something along the lines; "getting back to my roots". He now lives in our house and goes to Universitas Indonesia doing a masters degree. He even wanted to change his nationality for the sake of it. I don't understand how you could possibly be a representative of Indonesia to other countries when you are barely raised as one, but I don't care.

How easy can this be? The burden for myself and my sister to live up to my parents expectations and make them happy is completely uplifted. Someone's doing that for us. I'm thrilled. Though some part of me hated him for being the one to make my parents happy. But what I hated most is that this story just wouldn't come true.

help the melting man

A young man melting into a puddle of himself is something you don’t see everyday, much less in a busy public square. Yet this humourous but surprisingly effective spectacle is the latest effort by the Red Cross of Argentina to raise awareness about climate change.

read.

don't we all

i wish i was closer than anything with my mom
i wish i could walk hand in hand with my dad

i want to be accepted
i want to be cherished
i want to be understood

i want to love someone and
stay in that boat
for years
the kind of boat that
doesn't bring me down
and sail away

but is it possible?

i want love thats kind
and keeps me strong
protects me like a bubble against the world
and fills my stomach warmer
than buttermilk waffles,
warmer than knitted leg warmers.
the different kind
the rainbow patterned kind

the kind that makes you smile
in your sleep
and makes you feel at home
i want to make someone smile
in their sleep

I want a love
to miss when walking in the crowd
because sometimes
its just unbearable

and it'll tell me its okay
and that we're okay
and its okay,
to be just okay.

I want to be found.

but, is it possible?

besok

one-sided monologue days

A : wow! you're a good drawer
B : drawer?
A: I meant to say, you're good at drawing.
B: Oh. Well thank you.
A: But you'd make a good drawer as well.

life and loss, one song at a time

Love is a mix tape is a groundly compelling memoir about love. In its simplest form the love for a person and life (which for this man is Music). The writer has an interesting hobby of making and collecting mix tapes as a form of diary or soundtrack to score each event, each stages of his life since he's been introduced to music. Every occasion, be it regrets, parties, breakups even mundane tasks like washing the dishes and walking the dog etc. But particularly the mix tapes he created while sharing his life with his late wife. The story falls in his journey before he met her ( an awkward self-proclaimed music geek), when he met her (she is bold, and way cooler, but music junkie nonetheless - hence soulmate), and their journey as they got married onwards . Whats interesting was they were both highly intellectual people that were also very fun. They created mix tapes of songs they both love for almost every single occasion in their life together. Each page is provokingly witty, charming and heartbreaking. It made me literally cry and laugh at each turn of the page. The writer, and narrator is a journalist for the rolling stones, which would explain all his extensive knowledge for music. But what I find special about his storytelling is his gift with words to truly make you laugh. Also his description of his feelings for his wife, before and even after he lost her, is expressed on a certain level that conveys such profound romanticism that doesn't sound sappy at all. But deep. Romanticly deep. Yet he is able to suggest hope through his pain- without making you feel like your dragged into this depressing love story you'd regret spending your money and 2 hours in the cinema for. The way the notebook would affect you (which I truly believe, is one of those movies best used in a soviet union military to torture someone into telling the truth. How : Strap them on a metal chair with chains attached on the arm, tape the mouth and eyelids up, and make them watch the movie on a projector. . voi'la.. watch them cringe in pain at how the characters died together in the movie. Then wait till the victim try to unleash themselves and cry out what they really did last Christmas. Now I'm just bitter. Bitter to the bones).

He makes you feel like, Man. What have I been doing? I wish I had that...at some point in my life.

The content of this book truly does make you feel like, everything else you've worked your whole life to is nothing as valuable as what he feels for his wife. I'm not exaggerating. You may not find alot of people actually being this loving and romantic in a marriage. And who wouldn't want that! Not that I want someone to make me mix tapes or a write a book for me. Oh no, I'm not that demanding. Well, it would be nice, but it lies on these random thoughts about her, these gestures they make for each other, in every single word that expresses how he loved and understood everything about that woman. It makes you nostalgic, and makes you dream. Who wouldn't want that kind of understanding for someone and that discovery together? Discovering you'll never grow tired, always feeling like all the time in the world is never enough. And the giant stab at the closure of the book that finds how I, am a complete tragic. Possibly even worse.

revolt

The water hitting me from the shower felt heavy as it trickled slowly down my body this morning. It is around 4 am. The shower ran under cold water yet I don't feel cold. It felt rather cathartic. It left me feeling light. Or perhaps my growing skepticism and disgust about the world I live in has left me immune to physically feel the cold. I haven't slept. I haven't traveled anywhere beyond my own apartment the entire day. But I needed to take a shower. I needed to feel clean.

glued to the screen

I HATE KEEPING UP WITH THE WORLD.

:)

"a micrometer from here" (eng sub) from amit zakai on Vimeo.

the wind - www.hellohikimori.com

Le Vent - Publicité
by Molly56

olympics opening ceremony

there's no such thing as a free meal

If ever you happen to be walking in a tall large corporate building, what comes across your mind seeing people in sharp suites rushing with big steps, looking straight overhead and leaving nothing but a distinct scent of branded perfume... the smell of success perhaps?
My immediate thought is, I would never want to be anything like them.

As I changed into a fake officer outfit for a school movie project today, I came to this very thought of how much I would resent myself if everyday I would have to come to work in a uniform alike. Then I remembered a conversation made by this guy at school about the reason why people work so hard to climb to the top of the corporate ladder. And once you're there, what happens next?
It made me think. I personally don't understand about people that are power crazy. Which is why whenever I get the chance to meet someone of authority in any field, without trying to pry, I actually ask what motivated these people to want to get there. I'm endlessly curious about what took place as the defining point in that persons life to want to persevere to the top of the world? Personal vendetta? A better life? Challenge?

There was a time I used to look at the creative field and business field as two completely opposing worlds. Like I was looking into a large aquarium glass with people in suites talking a language I don't care to understand. Little did I know I was going to be apart of both worlds. An obvious example of this irony was when one day I went to a particular bank - which happened to be regarded as a big international corporation - my 'radar' could still detect two graphic designers smoking below that gigantic building. Apparently they were working there. I still have a bit of animosity towards the objective of commercial art and that are creating it more and more into a business. But I know like they would know that unless you are unbelievably brilliant and willing to strive be idealistic at all costs- you are going to live on the street. Proving that our society and as human beings cannot function without benefiting from each other. After all, as much as a corporation benefits oneself, it does impact greatly in sustaining economic growth at large. It's like a food chain.

Which is why I believe it is impossible to completely turn your back and resent people who decide to be a part of the so called system- if you simply look at it them trying gain power and money. This system wouldn't exist without reason. And they chose that path. And as communities we do need certain leaders, we do need people who are willing to take risking that privilege to a better direction. Because if they're not the ones doing it, who will?

all i need is a pair of mom jeans

Menu yang bisa gue bikin sekarang:
* Semur Daging with kentang
* Sate panggang ( haha.. ga punya grill )
* Sup Sayur
* Bayam & jagung kuah bening
* Gado-gado..
* Fillet ikan
* Tumis Daging with paprika & soy sauce
* Perkedel kentang
* Perkedel Jagung
* acar
* Tumis buncis & jamur
* fettucini with cream
* nasi goreng 
memang kurang presentatif baik dalam bentuk dan ..rasa haha
tapi bolehlah mak, bangga sama anakmu ini...