Sunday, March 20, 2005

The Pigs' Musing...

Saturday afternoon, me and him was doing what so called ‘leyeh-leyeh’ – Sindrow’s term, hope it’s not copyrighted… - smiling contentedly to each other when suddenly he gave a very soothing gaze to my eyes and asked

‘Why did we meet?’

A bit bemused of his question, I answered ‘because we worked at ak’ sa ra, remember?’

‘I know, dear. But I mean, why did we meet?’

‘I don’t know. Because it’s just happened, I guess. I happened to work there and so did you, and so there we were then.’

‘No, no… I mean, why? Why did we meet? Was it planned? Was it because of chaos? Was it incidental? I mean… all of a sudden I worked there and I found you and I chose to fall for you and then I chose to let you know my feeling and here we are now, feeling as happy and as content as we are now. Why? Destiny?’

‘Destiny? No. I don’t believe in such thing.’ I said.

‘You mean… you don’t believe that something had already written?’

‘No. I mean… well yes, I do believe in destiny, sort of, but the destiny does not mean that somebody’s pattern has already been written entirely, so all he got to do is to walk on the written pattern. I do believe that in somebody’s life, there are several bold patches. Those bold patches are the intersection on whatever random acts that person chooses to do.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘It’s like this. In your life, of course there are paths, several different paths. For instance, you could chose to enter the path of not to send the application weeks earlier before the recruitment were already opened, or you could chose to enter the path of coming to the job interview two hours late that will resulted in you being replaced in the different schedule with mine. However, if we talk about that so called destiny, supposed ‘you meet me’ is the bold patch in your life, whatever minor paths you chose, it will always led you to the intersection of the patterns, that is, you meeting me. Maybe that’s what people called as destiny.’ I said.



‘For instance, the different lines in the picture are the random paths you have in your life. The red line is probably the path of you not coming to the job interview. The pink line could be the path of you choosing to flirt with Ditri at campus before deciding to apply at her office, and so on and so forth. However, no matter how twisted and twirling the path you chose, those different paths will come into one intersection, the bold patch, that is, you meeting me. After experiencing the bold patch, then the random paths again. It is you who made the random path, it is you who decide to choose or not to choose it, but somewhere beyond, there’ll be another bold patch that you’ll meet. That is destiny. I guess’ I continued.

He then looked at me, and said.
‘Interesting. But, I think every different random path chosen will result in a different bold patch. Entirely different. For instance, if I chose to come late back then in our first day of work, I would not met you that morning, would not be able to see you panicking because you thought you’d came too early, and we would not spend the morning smoking and chattering while waiting the time to finally point at nine thirty where we could start to work. The result will be entirely different, then. Had I not undergone those things, I might not come into the same bold patch if I had undergone those things. So if I chose different path, I will be led into different pattern, of course I might met you, and most likely I would also fall for you, that is, an intersection of pattern, but the pattern I undergo would be different, baby.’



‘See the lines, suppose that blue line is the path of me choosing to come early that morning, then that choice led me to see you that morning, smiling relievedly when seeing me there, and then here goes the bold blue patch, we met and we talked. However, if I happened to choose the orange line, suppose it is the path of me choosing to wake up a bit late that morning, I would came late, then I would not see you, then probably instead of talking to me that morning, you would end up talking to Ditri or Yumma or whoever person it might be, then the pattern of the blue path and the orange path are entirely different, of course there might be intersection, but the final result would not be the same.’

‘Interesting.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’

‘So you mean, if you had not chosen the path you chose back then, we might not be here, right here, at this moment?’ I asked.

‘I guess. If I chose the red line, I might still have the same feeling of loving you, but probably because of the sequence of acts caused by that particular choice, we might had not came in to this stage of relationship, probably we would just about to start it or probably even better, the feeling we have right now might be even deeper. It is a matter of the path we choose. Different path, different pattern, different result.’

‘Very interesting. So it means that, had you not chosen the path you chose back then, and had I not chosen the path I had chosen, you would not be here, holding my hand, and we might not come across this feeling we have now?’

‘I guess.’

‘Babi, whatever theory that is correct, I’m glad we’ve chosen what we had chosen. I’m happy that right now, in this precise moment, we’re here, doing exactly what we’re doing, with the exact feeling we’re feeling right now. I love you. Really really.’

‘I’m glad too, love. Really really.’

--sisie--

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

it's not a curse... it's a tear burst...

sublime sublime sublime sublime
kadang-kadang gw pikir gw SUNGGUH over estimate myself...
gimana enggak coba,
jual diri jadi MAPRES, mengangguk gembira ala puppy yang kegirangan waktu ditawarin lomba debat di FE, lompat-lompat minta dikasih tugas bikin artikel buat bulletin, sampai bersemangat '45 menyelamatkan fakultas gw sendiri dari kebobrokan demokrasi yang dibuat sebagai justifikasi untuk mengislamkan kampus oleh orang-orang Islam fundamentalis itu...
hasilnya adalah...
  • besok gw mesti submit paper buat Mapres, belom bikin sama sekali, not even started, bahan masih di download, dan itu sebabnya gw masih di warnet sampai semalam ini...
  • disket ketinggalan di kostan, padahal editan artikel gw ada disitu, artinya gw gak bakal bisa ngirim editannya setidak2nya sampai besok. Andrei dan Tami akan merajam gw. well... mungkin nggak Tami, tapi Andrei... definitely...
  • presentasi buat paper lomba debat di FE belom gw buat sama sekali, latihan apalagi... padahal lombanya hari Senin ini... sungguh mati gw ini.
  • tulisan gw buat FIB masih setengah jadi, dan gw agak ragu untuk melanjutkannya... for several reasons that i've discussed with Ruli... though he clearly despised my so called 'too soft and not-going-to-win' approach... tapi makasih ya babi untuk selalu menjadi partner gw untuk terus mikir mikir mikir dan mikir... >hug<
  • Speaking belum, Writing belum, ngabisin baca buku yang sejubel2 gw pinjem itu juga apalagi...

hyaikh... tampar aja lah gw... ni Adobe Acrobat masih 90% padahal gw dah nunggu hampir dua jam...

aku

butuh katarsis...

--sisie--

pindahan tahap II

gw udah ngecat.
the original sound track was Yellow-coldplay
diselingi dengan sedikit Somewhere Beyond the Sea-nya Robbie Williams yang dinyanyiin sepenggal-sepenggal (karena gak apal liriknya...)
Dr Worms - They Might be Giants yang dinyanyiin dengan suara satu dua tiga dan sepuluh bareng-bareng antie n hany
Ordinary People - Frente
Love Fool - The Cardigans
No One Else Come Close - Joe
pokoknya gw udah ngecat.

barang-barang akhirnya udah dipindahin semua.
kecuali mug Scorpio kesayangan gw sama piring beruang dari mama
besok mau ngambil ah ke kostan yang lama.

re-arrange barang dan bersih-bersih bikin gw GILA
bersin bersin bersin bersin bersin terus sampe tepar dan gak mampu bergerak.
tapi akhirnya lumayan rapi juga.

beli beli beli peralatan kostan.
anjir mahal.
tapi gak pa pa, yang penting bahagia.
he
he

sekarang tinggal ngurusin lemari,
or else segala kardus-kardus menggila itu belum bisa dipensiunin...
Sophaaannn hua hua huaaaa... ayo bantuin gw ngebongkaarr...
Om yoosskiiiie... katanya mo minjemin mobiiillll...
hiks.

doakan saya ya (sambil hormat ala benteng takeshi)

--sisie--

Friday, March 04, 2005

MIRJO MIRJO MIRJO

huaahhh..
MIRJO adalah sebuah kata yang sungguh MIRJO karena dipenuhin dengan keMIRJO-MIRJOannya...
betapa MIRJOnya ketika dengan tega mengusir tiga orang anak manis yang datang dengan girang sambil berjingkat-jingkat bahagia berharap bisa menimba ilmu..
sungguh MIRJO adalah MIRJO yang sekali MIRJO tetap MIRJO..

andrei, bagaimana kalo kita runtuhkan saja segala jenis keMIRJOan itu? trus ntar kita curi buku2nya..
bom pake molotov..
atau bakar pake bensin yang sekarang udah jadi barang elit... supaya si MIRJO bisa bahagia terbakar dalam ke elitannya..

sungguh MIRJO...
baru MIRJO lah sebuah MIRJO yang tega meMIRJO...


dengan geraman ala MIRJO
-sisie-

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

today is another absurd day

hari ini absurd sekali..

-menangis di kelas sintaks
-saved by the bell lagi2 di kelas sintaks, terus ketawa cekikikan sambil mengutip lirik lagu Sherryl Crow
-tertidur sangat lelap di sofa perpustakaan sambil memeluk buku Puritan
-meminjam buku baru padahal belum selesai membaca buku lama
-menerima telpon yang membuat bengong selama sepuluh detik
-makan dua buah kue sus dan merasa sangat kenyang


sungguh absurd...
harus segera balik dan membolak-balik majalah lama.

--sisie--

The CuPu Philosophy

CuPu adalah Curi-curi Perhatian Untukku...
HUaHahUAHAhaHA...

CuPu adalah Cupu-Cupu yang lucu.. kemana engkau terbang...
HuAHaHAhuaHAHAha...

CuPu adalah Cup Cup Uaaahh...
HuaAHUAHAhUHahaha...


i love being cupu :p

-sisie-

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Debat tsunami part II? Akankah?

Postingan di blog nya Laila selalu membuat gw ingin memulai debat 'tsunami' lagi... hehehehehe...

mulai nggak ya, mulai nggak yaa..

hehehehe

Saturday, February 26, 2005

--intermezzo--

akhir2 ini gw mikirin erlan-
mikirin banget.
nggak ngerti kenapa.
mungkin karena produk PMS yang menggila,
PMS emang jahanam... suka bikin gw mikir yang nggak jelas..
mendadak sendu, terus nangis sesenggukan aneh..
eh sepuluh menit kemudian kayak terkena suntikan serum euphoria dan ketawa2 kayak nenek lampir, untuk alasan yang nggak jelas juga...

yap. gw mikirin erlan.
nggak mikirin yang macem2 juga, gw cuma pengen tau apakah dia baik2 aja..
kalo baik2 aja ya gw bersyukur, karena gw emang sayang banget sama dia, nggak pengen kalo dia knapa2...
tapi rasanya jahat banget kalo gw sekarang angkat telpon dan menghubungi dia,
meskipun cuma buat nanya kabar aja..
mungkin dia emang nggak pengen ngedenger suara gw lagi, atau malahan udah sama sekali menghapus gw dari ingatan dia... kaya di eternal sunshine for the spotless mind... ya nggak apa-apa, soalnya itu kan hak dia..
tapi ya gw pasti sedih, soalnya... buat gw, he will always stay here in my heart, no matter what, my love for him stays, even beyond romance.. jadi nggak mungkin gw menghapus dia dari ingatan gw... cinta nya tinggal, meskipun gw terus melanjutkan hidup gw...

kata babi, cinta itu adalah ketika orang itu udah menjadi bagian dari diri lo.
i love u ruli, love u so much.
thx for being my best friend,
thx for being here in my life.

--sisie--

Pindahan Tahap I

hari ini gw pindahan.
tahap I.
menggila.
hmm...
cape banget pula.
tu.
wa.
tu.
wa.
bolak balik bolak balik mindahin barang.
belum lagi mikirin siapa yang bakal bantuin ngecat.
belum lagi mikirin beli ini beli itu.
uang nya kurang lagi.
aaaaaaaaaaaarrrggghh...
kesal.
tapi excited juga.
pengen cepet2 menghias2 dan bikin rumahnya senyaman mungkin untuk ditinggali.

tapi itu sebelum si babi dateng menengok malem ini dan membuat rumah gw kelihatan seperti barak pengungsian yang tidak layak ditinggali - meminjam istilah babi, uncivilized -
huah. dasar babi gedongan.
awas ya kalo rumah gw udah jadi trus lo mampir2, gw jitak nanti.

you know what, my sweet pig, if only i have all the money in the world,
gw akan nyewa apartement, bukan cubical..
dimana gw bisa menyuguhi elo dengan red wine, sambil duduk2 di couch yang super nyaman, sejuk dengan air conditioner, mendengarkan your favorite jazz tune.
hehe.
tapi kan gw cuma mahasiswa miskin ala PSP..
yang lagi seneng2nya karena bisa punya sepenggalan space sendiri yang bisa gw hias2 sesuka hati dengan uang hasil gw kumpulin sendiri.
i know you think it's uncivilized, but it's going to be my home and i'm going to make it homey :)

selamat tidur, babi.

--sisie--

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

blanket grunt

birokrasi itu menyebalkan dan orang-orang 'diatas' itu suka sok pintar dan mengira diri mereka tau segalanya padahal mereka nggak lebih dari selimut tua yang modelnya udah ketinggalan zaman dan terlalu tipis untuk dijadikan penghangat tapi nggak bisa dibuang karena punya nilai historis dan perasaan sentimentil nggak jelas dari yang punya selimut. padahal, sekiranya orang yang punya selimut itu mau menggunakan otaknya sedikit, seharusnya dia cukup pintar untuk sekedar menyisihkan uang dan membeli selimut baru tanpa membiarkan dirinya terkena resiko penyakit yang disebabkan oleh kuman dan debu-debu yang sudah terlalu lama menumpuk dan berkubang di selimut tua yang ketinggalan zaman itu.

terlalu memandang tinggi diri sendiri memang nggak baik and please slap me everytime i unconsciously do that.

---sisie---
Thu, feb 24, 05

Sunday, February 20, 2005

congratulation! you are now oficially retarded

Konon, katanya, dunia sastra di Indonesia, atau katakanlah setidaknya di kota-kota besar, sedang berpesta pora menyambut gegap gempitanya gairah membaca dan membuat cerita yang kini semakin memuncak saja.

Konon, katanya, inilah zamannya dimana semua orang mulai kembali suka membaca, bahwa membaca buku akhirnya menjadi tren, dan semua orang, terutama generasi muda, berlomba-lomba menghabiskan lembar demi lembar rupiah untuk membeli buku, atau kalau pun belum punya uang pada saat itu, bisa bersesak memenuhi toko buku-toko buku lokal setempat lalu bersegera ke depan rak-rak yang memuat novel-novel untuk kemudian melahap buku sambil berdiri.

Mari angkat gelas dan ikut bersuka? Nanti dulu. Menurut gw, yang terjadi bukannya kebangkitan kembali gairah dan budaya membaca di kalangan masyarakat, tapi pembodohan generasi besar-besaran.

-sigh-

Minggu pagi ini gw beli Koran Tempo, artikel utamanya diberi judul ‘Sastra Jerawat’ membahas tentang chicklit, teenlit, atau apapun namanya, yang sedang happening (meminjam istilah Mtv) di kota-kota besar di Indonesia.

Katanya, novel-novel remaja lokal bertajuk chicklit atau teenlit yang diterbitkan itu, dengan bermacam-macam judul dan pengarang baru, terjual sampai puluhan ribu kopi, dan mengalami cetak ulang sampai berkali-kali hanya dalam tahun pertama penerbitannya. Sebuah prestasi yang luar biasa apalagi kalau kita mulai membandingkan dengan novel-novel sastra karangan sastrawan kenamaan. Mengutip pendapat Arswendo Atmowiloto, buku-buku karangan para sastrawan besar saja, semisal Putu Wijaya atau Rendra, atau Chairil Anwar, perlu waktu setidaknya lima tahun untuk cetakan kedua, dengan tiras hanya sepertiganya. Untuk mencapai prestasi novel-novel teenlit itu yang terjual sampai puluhan ribu kopi dan dicetak berkali-kali, seorang sastrawan yang punya nama perlu waktu 90 tahun untuk bisa menyamainya.

Luar biasa. Novel-novel teenlit itu begitu digemari. Para ABG (mengambil istilah sinetron-sinetron di Indonesia) berbondong-bondong menyerbu toko buku-toko buku lokal terdekat, membeli novel teenlit keluaran terbaru, pulang kerumah, selesai membacanya dalam hitungan hari, menyebar luaskan betapa luar biasa bagusnya cerita dalam novel itu pada teman-temannya yang kemudian berbondong-bondong ikut membeli, lalu kemudian kembali ke toko buku untuk membeli novel teenlit terbaru lainnya.

Apa yang membuat novel-novel chicklit dan teenlit ini begitu populer, begitu digemari dan bahkan dikatakan menjadi pembangkit kembali minat baca di Indonesia? Jawabannya, sayangnya membuat gw tertawa terbahak-bahak sambil mengerutkan kening seperti yang terjadi ketika gw mendengar jawaban-jawaban yang diberikan para kontestan Miss. Indonesia di RCTI kemarin malam. Sungguh bodoh.
Pertama, katanya novel-novel teenlit dan chicklit itu menjadi sangat digemari karena novel-novel itu bercerita mengenai kehidupan yang sangat dekat dengan kehidupan remaja, kalau tidak bisa dibilang jelas-jelas sama. Tema-tema yang diangkat adalah tema-tema yang sangat dekat dengan kehidupan remaja, sebagai tentunya pangsa pasar utama buku-buku berjenis ini, yaitu cinta dan... dan apalagi ya... umm... tidak ada. Hanya cinta. Cinta yang pelik, cinta yang melatarbelakangi bermacam-macam konflik, seperti merebutkan si idola juara basket di sekolah, atau diperebutkan dua (atau lebih) cowok gaul tajir oke banget gitu lohhh (mengutip salah satu line di teenlit tersebut). Cinta yang sungguh memusingkan, cinta yang membuat melayang, cinta, cinta dimana-mana, hanya cinta saja (mengutip salah satu judul buku teenlit tersebut, Nothing but Love). Hampir tidak ada tema-tema sosial yang diangkat oleh novel-novel laris mahapopuler tersebut. Masalah kemiskinan di sudut-sudut kota, misalnya, atau perdagangan anak yang masih merajalela, atau setidaknya tema-tema cukup klise seperti narkoba atau seks bebas lah, yang, paling tidak, meskipun klise, bisa menjadi sebuah studi sosial mengenai kecenderungan perilaku remaja di kota-kota besar. Tapi ya itu tadi, nggak ada sama sekali. Semuanya tentang cinta.

Alasan kedua yang melatarbelakangi kesuksesan novel-novel tersebut konon karena bahasa yang disajikan sungguh jujur dan apa adanya. Lagi-lagi begitu dekat dengan kehidupan remaja. Mereka bertutur serupa dengan remaja bertutur. Simak saja pendapat Dyan Nurandya alias Dichiel, 19 tahun, pengarang chicklit berjudul Dealova yang novelnya sudah terjual lebih dari 40 ribu eksemplar, mengantongi royalti 100 juta plus 20 juta dari rumah produksi yang ingin mengangkat novelnya ke layar lebar; “Aku nggak pikir bahasa. Tata bahasaku kacau, nilai bahasaku aja jeblok. Toh bahasa yang tidak dibuat-buat dan tampil apa adanya justru jadi khas teenlit yang laris manis.” Luar biasa.

Alasan ketiga rupanya lebih lucu lagi. Konon, chicklit dan teenlit lokal itu laris manis karena kemasannya (baca: cover) yang cantik dan berwarna-warni menarik hati. Cover ini, rupanya lebih penting dari isi cerita dalam mendeterminasi penjualan buku tersebut. Setidaknya inilah yang diakui para remaja-remaja pembeli chicklit dan teenlit tersebut. Hmm, mungkin mereka menganut pepatah lama... don’t judge a book, buy its cover!

Menurut gw, disitulah letak pembodohan besar-besarannya. Bagaimana bisa sebuah buku begitu laris, dibaca dan digemari begitu banyak remaja sampai-sampai berulangkali dicetak ulang dan difilmkan atau disinetronkan, karena alasan sesimpel ‘mengangkat tema yang sangat dekat dengan kehidupan pembacanya’. Kalau cerita-cerita yang diangkat itu begitu serupa dan dekat dengan kehidupan remaja tersebut, apa yang bisa diperoleh dari membaca buku itu? Tidak lebih dari sekedar pembodohan terorganisir yang menciptakan sebuah generasi simplistik yang menyukai hal-hal superfisial, dangkal dan tidak perduli pada sekeliling.
Katakanlah begini. Seorang anak SMA dengan kehidupan SMA nya. Dia pergi kesekolah, bertemu dengan teman-temannya, duduk di dalam kelas menyerap pelajaran-pelajaran bersifat teoritis yang kemungkinan besar tidak akan berguna banyak bagi kehidupannya di masa depan. Lalu dia pulang, dan membaca buku. Tebak apa yang dia baca? Sebuah buku yang menceritakan tentang dirinya, teman-temannya, kehidupan sekolah yang sama persis, dengan bumbu-bumbu cinta romantis yang alangkah menyenangkannya apabila bisa terjadi di kehidupan nyata. Yang terjadi adalah, dia terperangkap dalam kehidupan simplistik yang superfisial itu, tidak ada jalan keluar, karena toh dia terkungkung dalam sudut pandang yang itu-itu saja. Tidak ada petualangan baru yang bisa dia selami, sudut pandang berbeda yang membuat dia terbelalak dan berpikir, atau karakter menarik yang bisa ia amati pola pikirnya. Tidak ada. Semuanya mati. Semuanya tenggelam dalam pembodohan generasi yang disambut dengan suka cita oleh kaum kapitalis yang kemudian menunggangi pembodohan itu, mencetak lebih banyak lagi kebodohan dan bersenang-senang diatas uangnya.
Sebaliknya, bayangkan pikiran apa yang mungkin menari-nari di kepala si anak SMA itu kalau dia membaca bagaimana seorang anak kulit hitam yang seumur hidupnya dianggap dan menganggap dirinya buruk rupa, diperkosa oleh ayahnya, lalu mendadak menginginkan sepasang mata biru cerah untuk mengganti mata hitamnya yang selalu melihat kekelaman (The Bluest Eyes, Toni Morrison)? Atau sensasi apakah yang mungkin ia rasakan ketika seluruh indranya seakan diajak menikmati pegunungan Pyrenes di Navarra oleh Hemingway? Atau mungkin apa reaksinya ketika sang psikopat mati-matian membela diri dengan alasan yang tidak masuk akal di cerpen Poe? Atau Shakuntala yang menari telanjang untuk melepaskan sosok-sosok dengan berbagai macam jenis kelamin di Larung, Ayu Utami? Bayangkan pengalaman yang ia peroleh, sudur pandang yang bisa ia selami, petualangan yang bisa ia temui, lewat membaca? Tapi tentunya semua itu mati, terututup seperti gerbang yang digembok rapat, karena pembodohan yang memakai bendera teenlit atau chicklit itu. Para remaja itu berpesta, atas sesuatu yang kosong saja.

Lalu mengenai bahasa, tentu tidak salah kalau bahasa slank, atau katakanlah bahasa pergaulan digunakan dalam sebuah karya sastra, sepanjang berada dalam konteks dan proporsi yang sesuai. Tapi membuat propaganda bahwa bahasa teenlit dan chicklit adalah bahasa yang jujur dan apa adanya, oleh karena itu layaklah untuk digemari, secara tidak langsung menciptakan sebuah notion bahwa novel-novel sastra lainnya, tidak mengusung bahasa yang jujur dan apa adanya, berbelit-belit mendeskripsikan sesuatu yang kemudian pada akhirnya menciptakan kerumitan semata serta tidak layak untuk digemari. Dan menurut gw, notion yang timbul dari propaganda ini sangatlah tidak bijaksana dan lagi-lagi merupakan bentuk pembodohan bagi para remaja-remaja itu. Sebab, tentu saja pengalaman membaca dan mencerna sebuah karya sastra, menguak simbol yang tersirat secara implisit di dalam sebuah cerita merupakan juga sebuah perjalanan yang layak dilewati, dan sungguh tidak bijak menganggapnya tidak jujur dan tidak apa adanya, siapa pula mereka yang bisa memberikan definisi jujur dan apa adanya itu?? Kalau propaganda ini diteruskan, maka anak-anak remaja itu akan menganggap bahwa bahasa yang layak dan pantas adalah bahasa yang dikatakan ‘jujur dan apa adanya’ seperti yang terdapat pada novel-novel teenlit dan chicklit itu, sehingga otak mereka akan larut dalam simplisistisme bahasa tersebut dan urung berusaha untuk mengkaji kedalaman sebuah cerita yang tidak bertutur dengan eksplisit. Otak mereka akan beku, dan sungguh sangat mungkin mereka akan tumbuh menjadi manusia-manusia yang cenderung menggampangkan dan superfisial karena mereka hanya menyukai sesuatu yang bersifat dangkal dan permukaan saja.
Sedangkan mengenai masalah cover dan kalimat dont judge a book, buy its cover itu, rasanya nggak perlu gw komentari lagi. Selamat buat para kapitalis yang begitu cermat memanfaatkan situasi dan menyebarluaskan jaring kebodohan di Indonesia.

Jadi menurut gw, yang ada sekarang sama sekali bukan wujud meningkatnya gairah membaca dan menulis karya sastra di kalangan masyarakat, terutama generasi muda. Tapi memuncaknya pembodohan dan semua orang, herannya, mengangkat gelas dan bersulang diatasnya. Selamat untuk semua, mari Ibu-Ibu, Bapak-Bapak, atau siapa saja, berikan anak, adik atau tetangga kalian uang saku, dan biarkan mereka membuat otak mereka sendiri menjadi bebal dan dangkal, sambil memberi makan para kapitalis kemaruk.


---sisie---
Sun, Feb 20 05

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Shivered in the Cold Drizzle.. and yes I Love His Smile

“… You could fly as high as you want right now, I’ll be waiting for you on the ground… no… as a matter of fact, I’ll fly with you…”

The last time I ever smiled like that, was on the day I had my very first kiss,
years ago.

I luv u.

-sisie-
Sun, Feb 13, 05.

Thursday, February 03, 2005

war is not healthy

war is not healthy
war is not healthy
war is not healthy

and i'm sick because i'm not healthy
and i'm alone and i'm sick and i'm jaded
and i'm mixed up and i'm twisted
and i'm thrown and i'm wasted

and i want to sing the black box recorder
that
life is unfair kill yourself or get it over with

-sisie-

ps:
no Ruli... this is not about my suicidal dreams... we've talked about that before and i agreed with you
and yes Lurino... another boring and unimportant post, don't u think? call me mainstreamer if u want to.

Monday, January 31, 2005

ratapan pilu di akhir masa liburan...

aaarrrggghhh... libur tinggal seminggu... tapi banyak banget rencana yang udah gw rencanain dari berjuta-juta tahun lalu tu belon kelaksana...
hiks... untung aja masalah IRS gw dah selesai barusan... ada yang manjur nih ngasih jampe2 nya :)
tapi masih banyak banget yang belon... hmm... mari mari kita lihat rencana yang belum terlaksana:
1. pergi ke British Council dan bikin kartu anggota..
2. pergi ke Planetarium sekalian nanya2 masalah astronomy club itu...
3. pergi ke Senen belanja wardrobe yang aneh2...
4. nyari2 info tentang dimana gw bisa belajar Gambang Kromong atau Tanjidor...
5. hmm... sama nyari2 info tentang belly dancing... heuhuheue... gw pengen belajar belly dancing nih, tapi lupa mulu nyari2 informasi tentang itu...

hehe... berhubung ini blog, dan blog adalah public domain... adakah diantara 'public' yang tau dimana saya bisa mendapatkan info tentang hal2 tersebut? terutama yang dua nomor terakhir...
huaks... tinggal kurang lebih empat hari lagi dan masa2 bebas bermalas2an sayah berakhir...

-sisie-

Sunday, January 30, 2005

about muffin

it's so nice to see you smiling so nicely again :)
:) :) :) it's so nice to know that you stand on your feet again :)
it's so nice to hear your laughter again :)
go continue your life, muffin... you're so worth it.
you're so worth it.

--sugar--

Saturday, January 29, 2005

-sigh-

hidup harusnya nggak dibikin susah...
tapi kalo nggak pengen susah-susah, ya nggak mikir dong... bener nggak?
trus kalo nggak mikir, ngapain juga milih hidup...
masalahnya, kalo mikirin hal yang nggak jelas ujungnya... jadi ribet sendiri, kan?
kadang-kadang gw pengen shut down semua aplikasi yang lagi berjalan dengan nggak jelas di otak gw, yang berbelok-belok dan menikung-nikung dengan menggila, membuat simpul di mana-mana seenaknya, dan meninggalkan gw terbengong-bengong pada akhirnya karena kecapean ngikutin jalannya pikiran gw yang semakin absurd aja...
-sigh-
ini apaan sih.
hey you, someone out there, guess you know who you are... if you happen to open my page... i dont even know why i'm writing this...
-just ignore this lah-
nggak penting.

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

talking about public domain...

A public domain, my friend, is an area or territory that is owned by the public, meaning that this territory could be easily accessed as well as freely used by the public or society.

My blog, I think, is a public domain. Everyone could easily access my blog, read its contents, and of course, give comments for whatever things I wrote.
However, knowing that nearly everyone, with whatever point of views, philosophical beliefs, as well as various temperaments and dispositions could, without a hitch, access my blog, definitely, I will state it again boldly, definitely would not stop me from writing whatever I want to write in my blog.

I have full freedom to write all my thoughts which in most cases reflect my mood and my emotional state at that moment. When I’m feeling melancholy, mostly my entries would reflect the sadness I feel inside, if not to say could be even sappy and sickly mawkish. And when I’m feeling happy, the readers of my blog would somehow notice the mushy gushy language I use, the sugar-coated tone, as well as the merriment in every sentence. Now, the same thing also happened when I’m feeling disturbed, disgusted, terrified by something, or whatever emotional state I’m feeling at that moment. I will, without inhibition, pour it out within the entries I write for my blog.

I also perfectly aware that not everybody sees my blog, or at least see their blog, as the way I see mine. Some people use and make their blog as a form of rebel, some use it as a place to speak out their inner philosophical beliefs and to make people see from their point of view, some use it to express their devotion towards objects they’re admire, some use it to communicate with others, some other use it because they have too much thoughts on their mind and need to spill it out, and many other reasons. All reasons are acceptable, there is nothing, I repeat, nothing that could restrain it. There’s no such rule or regulation that could acceptably state or determine what should or should not be put in one’s blog.

Now, if in one point, there’s someone that happens not to agree with the content I wrote on my blog, of course that person have the same freedom as I possess to express whatever state he or she has in his or her mind. And me, as the one being objected, or criticized, or even condemned, also have the same freedom to express my rejection towards his or her opinion for my writings, with all of the justifications I owned. I see that equal possession of freedom as one of the concept of the public domain.

However, there’s another concept that I believe also included in the concept of public domain. That is, every opinion and every viewpoint that is thrown inside the territory of the public domain should be able to be responsibly explicated or clarified by its owner. I mean, when somebody throws an opinion, that opinion should be perfectly provided with logic supporting facts or enough reasonable grounds. In other word, the person suggests one idea should be able to explain that idea, the reasons why he or she chooses that idea, or what makes he or she thinks the idea is valid and acceptable. Thereby, whatever costs or impacts that are caused by the first concept of public domain, that is the equal possession of freedom to speak, would not lead into some chaotic misunderstandings, let alone some unnecessary hostility among each others, for all of the opinions could be responsibly explained and supported with reasonable facts and logical reasons. As a matter of fact, with those freedoms to speak followed by the fully provided reasonable facts and logical reasons, I believe that the only thing it would lead is the opportunity to interchange opinions and see from each other point of views. By that, we could learn to dive into somebody else’s mind that is totally different from ours, understand the reasons behind his or her actions and observe his or her stands toward something. By that we could see and accept differences with a fully objective point of view and does not give some ludicrous prejudices even when that point of view is totally different from ours. By that we could learn to agree to disagree.


--sisie--

A Poem.

Chocolate, cayenne and tangerine
Love
That is.



--sisie--

Saturday, January 22, 2005

yes.. the power of love..

Pacarku nggak percaya sama kekuatan cinta… hiks…
Dia nggak mau menjemputku ke Muara Angke, ke Jelambar, atau ke ujung Marunda di Tanjung Priok…
Trus saran terbaik yang bisa dia berikan untuk menolongku kalau terdampar di sebuah sudut mengerikan di Jakarta yang kejam pada dini hari jam dua pagi adalah memandang langit yang gelap, kelabu dan sungguh suram untuk mencoba mencari sendiri arah pulang dengan bantuan bintang-bintang…
Trus… dia tertawa terbahak-bahak tanpa berhenti selama hampir satu menit waktu aku bilang kekuatan cinta bisa menolong dia menerpa badai Tsunami untuk mencari aku yang tersesat di belantara air bah itu…
Hiks… babi pacar yang jahat…

Emangnya dia nggak percaya apa kalau kekuatan cinta bener2 ada?
Dari dulu juga udah ada, sejak dari awal peradaban manusia yang paling primitif sekalipun…
Simak aja lagunya Backstreet Boys… - Anywhere for You -
‘I’d walk halfway around the world, for just one kiss from youuuuu…’
Far beyond the call of looveeee, the sun.. the stars... the mooooon…
As long as your love there to lead mee..
I wont lose my waaayy beliiievee meee…
Even through the darkest night, you knoww..
I’ll go anywhere for youuu..
Anywhere you want me tooo…
I’ll do anything for youu… Anything you want me dooo…
Love as far as I can see, is all I’m ever gonna neeeeddd…
There’s one thing for sure I know it’s truuueee…
Baby I’ll gooo anywheeree for youuuu…’
Sungguh contoh sebuah masterpiece yang sempurna untuk melukiskan bagaimana seseorang begitu mencintai kekasihnya sampai-sampai rela mencari pacarnya nun jauh keujung dunia hanya untuk mendapatkan sebuah ciuman tulus berbekal kekuatan cinta…ahh…cintaa…
…………….
Huaaa… huaaa… babi pacar yang jahat, kejam dan suka menelantarkan pacaaarrrrrr….
Bukannya gw ga bisa nolong diri sendiri sih.. ihiks.. bukannya gw ga cukup pinter untuk nyoba nyari jalan pulang, atau nemu satu alasan yang cukup wajar dan logis untuk nggak memutuskan berperahu di belantara pasang Tsunami… tapi ini kan kita berbicara mengenai kekuatan cintaaa… sekali lagii… kekuatan cintaaa…. Hiikksssss…..
Uhuk..uhuk… ehmm.. -sigh- inhaaleeee… exhaaaalee…(*menarik napas panjang sesaat, mencoba menenangkan diri, lalu memasang tampang yang sedikit lebih… emm… ilmiah…*)

Maap… maap… tadi itu sedikit kebawa perasaan…
Anyway, topik kita kali ini adalah… taaddaaaaa… seperti yang sudah -ehm- cukup jelas... adalaahh…kekuatan cinta, the power of love… atau apapun itulaahh..
I do believe in the power of love. No seriously, I said I do believe in the power love, yang to some extend… bisa melewati batas-batas berpikir rasional seseorang… soalnya justru disitulah seninya…
Hmm… agak susah buat dijelaskan… tapi contoh gampangnya begini… gw emang nggak punya mobil, jadi tentunya gw nggak bisa jemput dia kalau sewaktu-waktu dia diculik dan disembunyikan di salah satu gua Jepang di Pangandaran…
Tapi gw mau bersusah payah datang mengantarkan payung di tengah hujan deras, berjalan kaki dengan penuh penderitaan melintasi berpuluh-puluh genangan air dari tempat kost gw ke kampusnya, kalau gw tau pada saat itu dia nggak bawa mobil dan nggak bawa payung… gw tau sih dengan penuh kesadaran dan otak yang berjalan dengan cukup normal bahwa gw nggak perlu melakukan hal itu..dan tentunya dia juga tahu… - ada cara yang lebih praktis yang bisa ditempuh… dengan nebeng payung atau mobil salah satu temannya… misalnya… - tapi gw dengan senang hati melakukan semua itu untuk sekedar muncul di depannya sambil tersenyum lebar dan memberikan dia pinjaman payung… and perhaps… just maybe… making him feel really… loved…
Atau.. mungkin... gw mau aja menemani dia mencari alamat rumah siaapaa gitu yang nggak jelas dimana… jalan kaki… berputar-putar seantero…emmm… Kota misalnya… dibawah terik panas yang menggila… -meskipun lagi-lagi gw tau bahwa gw sama sekali nggak punya kewajiban untuk melakukan hal itu, dan gw dengan gampangnya bisa melongok ke langit, memutuskan bahwa hari itu terlalu panas untuk jalan-jalan… dan dengan rasional menyarankan dia untuk mencari teman yang bisa ditebengi mobil atau menunda saja acara cari-mencarinya sampai cuacanya bersahabat, atau malah sama sekali melupakan alamat yang nggak jelas itu… - karena… gw sayang banget sama dia dan menggenggam tangannya pada saat itu bakalan sangat berarti buat gw dan perhaps… ini mungkin sih, mungkin juga nggak… perasaan dia akan menjadi lebih senang dan nyaman knowing bahwa ada orang yang pada saat itu menggenggam tangannya… making him feel really… loved…

Rasionalitas, dengan segala pertimbangannya yang logis dan sungguh amat sangat dapat dipertanggung jawabkan dengan akal sehat tentu saja bisa membuat gw memikirkan hal yang lebih masuk akal untuk dilakukan ketimbang bersusah payah melakukan hal-hal bodoh yang nggak jelas manfaatnya… Dan ketika gw dihadapkan pada situasi seperti itu, gw bisa memastikan bahwa otak gw tetap berjalan seperti semestinya dan secara otomatis membawa gw pada beberapa jalan keluar masalah yang lebih logis dan praktis… tapi, lagi-lagi secara sadar… pikiran-pikiran yang sungguh rasional itu menjadi terkesampingkan… karena ada perasaan dan keinginan… untuk membuat orang yg gw sayang menjadi… umm… katakanlah… lebih senang…
Gw tau dia akan menjadi lebih senang kalau gw melakukan hal-hal itu… dan gw sama sekali nggak keberatan melakukannya karena gw akan menjadi lebih senang juga kalau gw melihat dia senang dan… umm… I could achieve that really really tiny simple feeling of knowing that he might possibly feel really loved… by me…
Jadi gw akan bilang sekali lagi bahwa… yes, I do believe… in the power of love… dan saya dengan bangga mengatakan itu… hehehehe…

*masih dalam mode penyair menggila…*
this is me, signing out… udah pagi nih… harus tidur ah…
-sisie-

Thursday, January 20, 2005

long gone before daylight...

I'll love nina persson till i die...














an angel bored like hell...

You're The Storm


Oh, it's healing bang, bang, bang,
I can hear your cannons call.
You've been aiming at my land,
Your hungry hammers falling...
And if you want me, I'm your country.

I'm an angel bored like hell
And you're a devil meaning well,
You steal my lines and you strike me down
Come raise your flag upon me.
And if you want me, I'm your country,
If you win me, I'm forever,

Oh yeah!

'Cause you're the storm that I believed in,
And all this peace I spent deceiving,
I liked the sweet line and the silence,
But it's the storm that I believe in!
Come and conquer and drop your bones,
Cross my borders and kill the calm,
Bear your thanks the and burn my wings,
I hear bullets singing…
And if you want me, I'm your country,
If you win me, I'm forever...

Oh yeah,

'Cause you're the storm that I believed in,
And all this peace has been deceiving,
I need some wind to get me sailing
So it's the storm that I believe in!

You feed my heart, you keep me breathing,
'Cause you're the storm that I believe in...

And if you want me, I'm your country...


---the Cardigans--



Tuesday, January 18, 2005

ayo menari di bawah bulan purnama!!!

Hmm… tadi gw abis beli CD bajakan di stasiun :) lucu deh… Disney Bossanova gitu hehehe… trus result nya gw jadi menari-nari Bossanova riang sendirian di kamar kuu…
…..
ta ta ta ta…
wahh… seruuu sekalii… coba ada pasangan nari nyaa…
serasa menari dibawah sinar bulan purnamaaa..
:)
:)
kekasihku, kamu dimana… ayo kita menari sampai pagi :)



miaawwww... let's dance!

Sunday, January 16, 2005

eternal sunshine for the spotless mind and a little girl in the ladies' room...

I finally watched the Eternal Sunshine for The Spotless Mind last Saturday. It had long been my 'must-see-movie-no matter-how-poor-you-are-at-that-moment' since the first time I heard its review. So I did watch it, with my last 50 thousand rupiahs in my wallet for the rest of the week.

And yes I did enjoy the movie, it was a veerryyy good movie. I really love the cinematography, very symbolic, lots of beautiful metaphors that personify the characters’ feeling and emotion towards evidences happened in their life. I always take a shine to those kinds of movie – those which speak with symbols and implicitly convey their messages – for usually the messages conveyed remain deeper and mostly more meaningful than those movies which tend to forget the beauty of metaphor and impassively explicit in depictions.

However, this writing is not about the sort of sweet tingling sensation of that movie, or how do I recommend that movie to you, or how the movie had enlighten me, or whatever. This is about the occurrence happened in the ladies’ room that night after I watched the movie and was about to go home.

My dear friends, we all know how painstaking and irritating the queue in the cinema’s toilet. I mean, sometimes I wonder how could these people have the same impulse to go to the toilet at the same time. They come flocking to the toilet before the film begins, and they rush in throngs after. Maybe there are some sort of relations between every cinema in this universe and human’s bladder… or I guess there’s some kind of urinary euphoria triggered by watching movies, or maybe… – Sisie, cut it out… this is getting absurd… - Anyway, that was also happening that night, there were only four rooms in the ladies’ room and one of them was out of order. Meanwhile, there was like 10 people at that time that needed to get the businesses done. So there were lines of about three ladies in each room, including me too, standing in the last row in front of the door of one of those rooms.

Nothing’s really caught – or worth - my attention except that beside all those ‘goodlooking or tried to lookinggood’ ladies, there were also standing, in the same queue, a little girl, aged about eight or nine, carrying her little sister in one hand and holding another little sister of her in the other hand. She dressed in a most plain house dress and obviously she’s not one of the celebrated patrons of the cinema, probably just a daughter of one of the food vendors on the pavement outside. She waited in the other line, standing in the second row, with a tremendously big haired woman in front of her and a teenage girl aged about fifteen or sixteen, wearing a very snazzy soft pink t-shirt and a pair of big eighties earrings, behind her.

And just like every queue in this world, it took forever. It took maddeningly forever. I did not know what the hell those ladies doing inside those toilet rooms, but it took so long that I can secretly laugh at those funny furrowed annoyed faces of the rest of the ladies waiting outside the rooms – until I realize that it was a bit stupid and absurd to laugh at them for I know that I was also sharing the same dull fate –

So yes, she was standing there too, with the same restiveness as all the rest of us there. And finally the door in front of her was opened, a girl with big glasses and a long beautiful hair came out of the room and the woman with a tremendously big hair went inside. I was still standing on my row, remained still because the brainless lady inside the room where I waited still had not decided to come out and greet the world.

Anyway, so it took about more than ten minutes until I finally stood exactly in front of the room’s door. And the little girl was too, standing there at the final line waiting for the woman with the tremendously big hair to get out of that toilet. There she was waiting, while a bit assuaging her little sisters that getting more and more restive. After a couple of more minutes waiting, suddenly the door was opened, and the woman came out. I could even see the relieve sight of that little girl knowing that her waiting is finally over. She then went to step in to the room, until there’s a voice stopping her. It was the janitor, a woman with a plump figure aged about twenty-five or more. Still carrying her mop in one hand, she pulled the little girl’s shoulder while giving a way for the teenage girl with the snazzy soft pink t shirt and a pair of big eighties earrings that was standing behind the little girl to go inside the room.

What the heck? It was the little girl’s turn! But nobody could seem care less about it. Even the teenage girl only gave a disdain glance, as if it’s natural for her right to be prioritized over the little girl’s right that happened to be in a so-called-lower social class than her, and went straightly to the room.

And yes, the little girl could only gaze at the janitor with a quick silent protest, and then shrank into some sort of submission look; maybe she too thought that it was natural for her right to be set aside everybody’s right that happened to be living in a higher social class than she was. Meanwhile, the janitor was grumbling to her about how she and her sisters would only end up playing with the toilet paper and giving her even more works to do.

And the little girl kept silent.

And for some stupid considerations that I regret later on, I decided not to say anything too. So stupid of me. I chose not to say anything because I don’t like confrontation. I always think that if there’s still other way to solve the problem, to confront should be the last resort, if not to be avoided at all, since in most cases it only creates more problems instead of solving it. So I decided to find other ways to solve the problem. At that time, I knew that the problem lied on the fact that the little girl did not gain her right to use the toilet, even though she waited in line just like the rest of the people there. So in order to make the problem solved, I think what I needed to do was to give the little girl her right – which was quite logical of course, since the problem was an expropriation of right so the solution must be the restitution of the right – I decided to let the little girl take my turn to use the toilet, in order to restitute her right. By that I thought that the problem’s solved.

Which was wrong, of course.

I realized that the action I did that time only solved the problem in its surface. Yes, true that the little girl finally gain her expropriated right to use the toilet, but the core of the problem still lied there, remained unsolved.

If we take a look closer to the problem, we’ll see that the real problem is not about the expropriation-restitution of right; instead it’s about the classic problem of how society treat people based on their so-called social class. In the case of the little girl in the ladies’ room, we can see the example how actually people think that that discrimination as something which is natural, that is, there’s nothing wrong with it. Even the janitor herself, as the representation of the lower social class, thought that it was the right thing to restrain their own right under the superiority of the higher social class, even more, become the actor who provided the discrimination itself. And of course, those who regard themselves as ‘the higher social class’ do not bother to give a little time to their useless brain to think about how by taking the superficial advantage out of other people’s right is really make them less than human.

So I really do think that this kind of problem could not be solved by merely seek for the solution in its surface level. The society, need to be awaken up so they are aware with this obsolete case that should not even relevant anymore in the world nowadays. The little girl, and the janitor, need to realize that they do have the same equal right as those other people in the ladies’ room and even the teenage girl with the snazzy soft pink t-shirt and a big eighties earrings need to be aware that there’s no such reason that would justify the toleration of any single form of discrimination.

That’s why I kind of regret the thing I did that night, I should’ve said something to the janitor that would give her a shock therapy to make her think that it was not at all natural to yield to the people with the so-called higher social class. Or to that teenage girl with her snazzy soft pink t-shirt and the big eighties earrings, that she should start to think about other thing than what color of earrings she should wear to match her outfit – because apparently the color of earrings she wore at that night did not match at all, it did look that she tried to match it up though, with those pink polkadot pattern on his earrings, but she ended up looking a bit cheezy – there’s so much problem in this world to think about…

So yes, my friends… as a conclusion of this writing, I think we really need to do something about it. Discrimination, in any kind of form, should be banished from this world, for all human are equal and deserve the same opportunity in every chance. The closest and the simplest thing to do to solve this problem is probably by starting to make people realize about this kind of problem. By realizing, hopefully they will start to think, and maybe, just maybe, in the simplest case, that teenage girl would probably give a big smile while shaking her head to the janitor and say that it was the little girl’s turn.

---

Thank you, my sunshine, for the discussion and for keeping me thinking.

---Sisie---

Wednesday, January 12, 2005

i know... i know...

i know, i know, sunshine...
you told me that it's over :)
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you
i love you

and i'm smiling now because i'm thinking of you right now...
hmmm...
kamu lagi ngapain ya?

--the simpsons nya bagus ga? sayang gw ga ada cable di kost...


(posting ini sungguh nggak penting... ga pa pa ah... i love you my sunshine)

---sisie---

sublime...

my sunshine, you made me realize how much i love you..
for the very first time in my life,
i could recognize and draw an almost complete map of my own feeling
and for the very first time in my life..
i based all my willingness upon my own willingness..

how could i explain this to you, sunshine?
i love u
because i do
because i choose you
because i want to

that's why i know that i could believe in myself when i say that i will never let myself experience the sublime through this way again...

love you...

the bunny is hopping in a gloomy moor...

hop
hop
hop
hop
.......

what a dark... dark... dark... moor


gw sedih..

--sisie--

Thursday, January 06, 2005

under construction...

maap yah, situs nya masih saya perbaiki... jadi nuhun kalo rada berantakan...
ini gara-gara RULI!!!!! demam html nya menular.... gara2 itu sudah kuhabiskan beriburiburupiah diwarnet... GAK SELESAI2 PULA!!!! AAAARRRGGGHH...
Ruli sayah menuntut refund! atau setidaknya reward...hwahahahaha....

btw, buat yang lain yang mau ngebantu, i'll be VERY VERY grateful... :) terutama buat desain tagboard nih... gemana sih, dari kemartin dikutak-kutik ga jadi2...
trus2... gw juga mau bikin link... jadi nuhun alamat blog yang lain :) Laila, Sindro, Ayu, Andrei...atau siapa aja deh yang ada...

thx bgt semuanya...
mudah2an cepet selesai nih, kalo nggak bisa GILA gw, abis duit bulanan...huhuhuhuhuhuhuuu....

somewheeerreee over the rainboowww....
nyanyi ah...
----sisie-----

---she's mumbling in a muddled mood---

the vexing thing about love is

the unavoidable clinging emotion

-sigh-

yes.

I

am

jealous.

because

of

a very sentimental

stupid

reason

that I don't even want to explain to you.

---sisie---
Wed, 010505
22.36

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

grumpy grumpy grumpy...



i hate it when people call me dumb blonde i hate it when people act as if they know me better than myself i hate it when people talk behind my back i hate it when people judge me from my appearance i hate people.....

i hate it when thinker-bell raised the tone of his voice on me... i know i was too 'menye-menye' but he really did not have to raise the tone of his voice on me... it reminded me of HIM and i hate all the thoughts about HIM in my head...

and i DO NOT hate animals... i think they could be really cute sometimes... is just that i have never ever find an animal that loves me or could be loved by me... most of the time they're just simply annoying and make a lot of mess... but i learn to leave them alone, i wont bother them (apalagi sampai merencanakan serangkaian aksi penyiksaan terencana) because i DO NOT hate animals...

and i dont want too go back to my kostan right now because my room is too messy and i hate being in a messy room because i couldnt even think of any single line for my new writing project and that sucks. but i dont want to tidy up my room because it's not my turn now, it's antie's, but she's too busy with her exam and again that sucks.

and GOD DAMN erlan keeps calling me and misscalled me and sent me sms... and i really really do not want to talk with him because he only asks me the same questions and talks about the same topics over and over and over and over again and that pisses me off.

and i hate it because my mother hasn't sent me my money for this week

and i hate it because there is no stars in the sky tonight, and i HAVE NOT SEEN STARS FOR YEARS.

novocaine for the soul...


Life is hard and so am i
You better give me something
So i dont die
Novocaine for the soul
Before i sputter out

Life is white and i am black
Jesus and his lawyer
Are coming back
Oh my darling will you be here
Before i sputter out

Guess who's living here
With the great undead
This paint by number's life is fucking with my head
Once again

Life is good and i feel great
'cause mother says i was
A great mistake

Novovaine for the soul
You better give me something
To fill the hole
Before i sputter out


i need a novocaine for my soul for my soul for my soul for my soul for my soul

Saturday, January 01, 2005

new year new year... tulisan aneh yang sedikit depresif...

happy new year...

ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada yang banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada banyak yang ingin ditulis, ada.........


kontemplasi satu...(bersama thinker-bell...)

dalam setengah jam, lebih dari empat puluh ribu nyawa diambil tuhan...
tuhan, supposed you're exist, umm... what was that all about, dear lord? sebuah usaha singkat dan instan untuk mengebiri jumlah manusia di dunia yang sudah semakin bersesak?
semua gambar di televisi adalah gambar wajah menangis... apakah kamu hendak menjadikan layar kaca itu sebagai sebuah cermin dimana aku harus berefleksi? kaca dimana seharusnya aku melihat diri, apakah seharusnya refleksi yang kupunya untuk hari-hari adalah refleksi menangis?....
lalu thinker-bell berkata dengan intonasi yang tidak biasa tapi sungguh biasa untuk dirinya, what a shame bahwa dibutuhkan kejadian pengebirian populasi secara instan seperti itu untuk mengingatkan manusia bahwa mereka adalah manusia...
lalu aku terdiam dan mencerna kata-katanya sejenak.
thinker-bell mungkin benar, bahwa aku, manusia... terlalu sombong, dan kepalaku, terlalu pongah... terlalu aku-sentris... lalu ketika datang bencana tiba-tiba, aku mendadak ingat lagi... bahwa benar... aku bukan hanya sekedar 'aku', sebuah entitas diri sendiri dengan segala keunikan yang aku punya, aku adalah 'manusia' yang ada ditengah-tengah banyak 'aku'-'aku' lain yang juga 'manusia'... part of the community, part of the society, so human...
lalu ketika aku menangis, itu bukan karena aku unik tapi itu karena aku adalah manusia, dan ketika lebih dari empat puluh ribu nyawa diambil tuhan dalam hitungan menit, aku ingat semua...

tapi thinker-bell benar, mengapa aku... dan kita semua... butuh melihat empatpuluhribu nyawa diambil tuhan sebelum kembali menjadi manusia?
mengapa semua orang masih saja mendorong-dorong dengan egois ketika keluar dari pintu bis, meskipun ada orang-orang tua yang hendak turun? mengapa semua orang masih melemparkan bungkus permen ke jalan dari dalam mobil? mengapa agama, menjadi alasan untuk membenci dan untuk curiga? mengapa terlalu sombong untuk tersenyum kepada orang-orang? mengapa semua sebelum empatpuluhribu nyawa diambil tuhan dalam hitungan menit?....

i love you thinker-bell, my inspiration, my sunshine...



kontemplasi dua... (with one of my bestfriend, andre...)

bro, i love you... semua yang kamu bilang tentang aku itu benar. my messed up life, distorted priority, the-taking-for-granted attitude... you were right, and i'm so sorry for that...
you had full right to be angry, and i was glad... because HELL YES somebody needed to slap my butt (butt??? ummm...sisieee, ini bukan waktunya untuk kinky kinky)... somebody needed to give me a pat on the head to wake me up and remind me to start to fix my messy life...

and yup, i guess a new year would be a great start for everything.
thanx a lot brother, i hope we could still be friend... :)


kontemplasi tiga... (with my own darkest mood...)

the closed chapter, the screaming of frustation... all the promises and all the deep breath taken...
selamat tahun baru semua, banyak sekali resolusi, banyak sekali yang terjadi...

lalu aku disini, menarik (lagi-lagi) napas panjang... dan inilah resolusi dari kontemplasi tiga:
1. menggila, ayo lekas perbaiki kuliahmu yang berantakaaannn sisieeeee....
2. mari mencari uang lebih banyak lagi (hihihi...)
3. mari lebih fokus pada seluruh target hidup dan stop being a procrastinator....
4. mari lebih berani tersenyum dan menertawakan hidup
5. mari mengerti esensi dari tuhan ku sendiri...
6. mari bercinta :)

selamat tahun baru semuanya

----sisie----
Sun, 02Jan05
1438


Monday, December 27, 2004

akhirnya di sore yang gloomy ini, aku menyanyi jugaa...

head over feet

I had no choice but to hear you
You stated your choice time and again
I thought about it

You treat me like i'm a princess
I'm not used to liking that
You ask how my day was

Chorus:
You've already won me over in spite of me
Don't be alarmed if i fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if i love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault

You love is thick and it swallowed me whole
You're so much braver than i gave you credit for
That's not lip service

You are the bearer of unconditional things
You held your breath and the door for me
Thanks for your patience

You're the best listener that i've ever met
You're my best friend
Best friend with benefits
What took me so long

I've never felt this healthy before
I've never wanted something rational
I am aware now
I am aware now

lihat, matahari? lihat, matahari? aku bernyanyi lagi :)



sendirian di suatu sore yang gloomy, ah ingin menyanyi...

aku kesepiaannn...hwa..hwa...hwa...

when i decided to leave him, i know that i left a part of me there,
my love my dear love...i know it hurts, i know it does, and the pain will still be aching in our heart for the time that i dont even know until when...
but this is the rightest way my love, for by being brave and encouraging ourselves to open our eyes would make us grow...to see the truth...to let our bare feets feel the real coldness of the grass in the misty moor...
one day, if we finally have fully grown, we will be able to look back to this one particular point in our live when we are forced to leave our warm and steady hiding cave, and smile...feeling glad that at the least point we know that we had finally able to let go our deepest feeling that had been locked inside for a long time...the feeling called courage...for we know that only by trusting ourselves with our own courage, we could open our eyes and see the world, feel the world with our most honesty, not with superficiality...

i love you, i hope you know that... and i guess that 'love' is far beyond romance now, i love you because i care for you, i want to see you grow, i want to see you smile to the world because i know you could, i want to see you run fast to reach your dreams...
so please dont cry... you are more than everything to me, you are a part of me...my best friend that i care for...

i want you to know that i could take care of myself, no need to be worry... :) i'm reaching my sunshine, i'm running and hopping and cheering and smiling to my dreams, i will see the world with my own eyes, with honesty and with hope :)

jadi hari ini, tanggal 27, aku tahu aku kesepian dan aku memikirkanmu... i hope ur doing fine there :) aku tidak lupa tanggal ini, dan meski tidak kulakukan lagi meneleponmu di tengah malam hanya untuk mengucapkan selamat tanggal 27, aku memeluk tanggal ini, tanggal kita. dan aku akan tersenyum karena hati ini tahu bahwa aku, dan kamu, dan the rest of the world akan baik-baik saja.

dan matahari, matahari yang kumiliki, menggenggam tanganku erat hari ini dan membuat hari yang dingin ini menghangat... setidaknya di hatiku.
hujanku, suatu hari nanti akan kubawa kamu pada matahari.

dan matahariku...bersinar hari ini.
biarkan aku tersenyum untukmu?

---sisie---

Sunday, December 19, 2004

raining ode for rainy him




Katakanlah, ketika malam datang, aku melihatmu disana.
Kamu tersenyum, dan menggenggam tanganku erat.
Tidur saja, bisikmu, lalu selimutku kamu naikkan.
Tidak perlu, sudah hangat, kataku. Kamu tidurlah.
Kamu tersenyum, tidak berkata apa-apa, tidak juga membiarkan aku melepaskan selimut yang nyaman memeluk itu.
Lalu jemarimu membelai rambutku, aku menutup mata.
Dan hangat jemarimu, tetap terasa sampai aku benar terlelap.

Lalu sebutlah, di malam lain, ketika hujan dan angin meniup dingin.
Aku melihat keluar jendela dan kamu ada disana.
Menunggu dengan diam, hendak membawaku pulang.
Lalu keluarku dan kamu tersenyum.
Dingin, kataku sambil merapatkan jaket.
Ayo cepat pulang, katamu. Aku tidak ingin angin membawa sakit untukmu.
Lalu kamu menggenggam tanganku erat, dan aku sadar kalau kamu tidak mengenakan jaketmu.
Mana jaketmu? Tanyaku. Aku juga tidak mau angin membawa sakit untukmu.
Jaketku ada di tas, nanti saja. Katamu.
Nanti bagaimana? Lihat angin yang meniup itu. Sikerasku.
Kamu terdiam lalu menarik tanganku sambil mengelus jemariku dengan jemarimu.
Aku terdiam, tidak ingin berdebat.
Dan ketika kita berdua naik ke atas bis yang akan membawa kita pulang.
Pendingin buatan semakin menusuk tulang.
Lalu aku melihat kearahmu, khawatir akan keadaanmu.
Ingin bicara tapi aku diam saja, tidak ingin berdebat, tidak ingin memancing amarahmu.
Lalu kamu membuka tasmu dan mengeluarkan jaket itu.
Pakai ini, katamu. Aku sengaja menyimpannya dalam tas,
Karena kalau aku pakai lebih dulu ketika hujan dan angin meniup saat aku menunggumu di luar jendela,
Maka jaket ini akan menjadi dingin oleh hujan dan angin.
Dan aku tidak bisa menghangatkanmu lagi.
Pakai ini, aku tidak ingin angin membawa sakit untukmu.
Aku terdiam, tidak tahu harus berkata apa.
Aku tahu aku juga tidak ingin angin membawa sakit untukmu, aku tahu aku sayang kamu.
Lalu kamu menggenggam tanganku erat,
Dan aku mengenakan jaketmu diatas jaketku,
Sambil bersandar di bahu dinginmu yang tidak terlindung penghangat apa pun.

Lalu hari lain ketika aku berbohong,
Kamu peluk aku erat dan mengelus rambutku.
Air mata, disana.
Tapi kamu tetap peluk aku meski air mata disana.

Lalu semua kata-kata
Baik, buruk, benci, jahat, indah, kekanakkan...
Semua air mata
Semua genggaman tangan dan tarian dalam hujan
Semua pelukan erat dan semua menit dimana kita lama terdiam
Semua amarah dan semua senyum yang ada
Hari ini harus pergi.

Dan aku sedih.
Sedih sendiri.
Dan kamu sedih.
Sedih sendiri.

Dan aku berjalan, sendiri di tengah hujan.
Tidak lagi menengok.
Dan kamu menatap
Jauh dibelakang.

Cintaku pada hujan, cintaku pada awan yang mendung
Bau tanah yang basah dan genangan air di ujung jemari kaki.
Pergi.

Matahari, pagi ini.







Tidak akan hilang, muffin ku. Selamanya disini.
Meski cinta sudah berbeda.
----sisie----
191202
2211

Thursday, December 16, 2004

staying awake at night in a stupid stiff bed, staring at the ceiling, rationalizing love...



There's this time in my life when i held his hand tight
and looked deeply to his eyes, his observant adorable eyes which i always relish
to gaze and wonder how does it feel to see the world through those eyes, and
there he was smiling at me and said that he loves me.



you do? i asked him. quite rhetoric i guess because i
knew exactly what he was going to say.



yes. i do. do you? he asked me back. And i knew that it
did not meant to be rhetoric for the fact that i kind of always hid at my warm
blanket and sort of baffle him with my endless doubts and the rickety stage i
put him in to.



what is love? i gave him a question as an answer for
his question. And i found his reaction towards my question was very amazing
because most people would be pretty annoyed to have this kind of answer for
their question - this i know because most people ask questions because they do
not keen to think further thus searching for a settlement for the anxiety which
trouble their minds, however, if someone answers their questions with another
questions, the settlement stage for their anxiety would not be achieved, because
they are forced to think more, and to think more means to be involved more in
those anxiety status of mind. therefore, they will most likely feel annoyed, for
the fact that they are sort of obliged to think more. - his reaction, however,
is far from annoyed, and i knew that was because he loves to think. So he gazed
at a distant and i knew that's because he was thinking.



it is... when you feel that someone has become a part
of you. he said. you are a part of me. he continued.



oh okay. i thought. maybe he is right. this feeling
called love is beyond caring, beyond liking, those are the elements of love, but
the love itself is far more beyond that.



so last night i kind of observed my own feeling towards
him. i starred at the ceiling and tried to recall all of the feeling i have when
he is around.



my feeling. i know my feeling is very complex, and at
certain points, it became really complicated that it caused a lot of trouble,
not only for me but also for other people. and that night i tried to understand
my own feeling, to rationalize whatever i'm feeling inside, to examine
logically what is going on deep within my head (and heart, i guess... ).



feel. feeling. what do i feel for him? what do i feel
inside when i'm with him?



i feel so many things going on within me when i'm with
him. so many things at the same time.



i feel happy yet afraid.



i feel excited and thrilled yet mellow.



i feel taking yet taken.



i feel this unusual sense of being smart and full of
inspiration, yet i feel my nothingness.



those feelings are contradicting each other and they
are all happen at the same time when i'm with him. i hardly couldnt explain why
such state is happening in my head, let alone define what is actually the
meaning of all these. however, as i spent more hours awake on my stupid stiffed
bed, i started to see those contradictive feelings, those feelings which oppose
one another as a form of a balance. just like the yin and yang, things are
opposing each other and they are completing one another. then i came to one
conclusion that at the state when you are completing each other, then it means
that you are a part of one another.



my heart



so i feel that he is a part of me



therefore i 'love' him.



i guess now i could answer his question not with
another question.





good night, thinker-bell.



161204 - 2.54

--sisie--














Thursday, December 09, 2004

One Trifling Day...

Thinker-bell… that day you laughed.
You and me, sitting together in
two stupid little red chairs
sort of inhaling death.

And you said it was funny,
because all of a sudden I was there
There in your life.

And I said it was zany
because all of a sudden you were here
stayed in my heart.

And you said that you love me.
And I said that I don’t know,
guessed I feel the same way too.

And you said
with a funny furrowed brow
‘what do you mean that you don’t know?!
one should be able to define one’s own feeling’.

And I kissed you that day.
And I saw you closed your eyes.
And I let you held my hand.

And the next thing I knew
was that
I agree with you

---sisie---
6.12.2004
2202

Monday, December 06, 2004

Admirably Enjoyable, But Not in A Relaxing Way

A review on Pat Barker’s Union Street

‘… But even when he had succeeded in forcing her hand to close around the smelly purple toadstool, it wasn’t enough. He forced her down and spread himself over her, his breath smelling strongly of peppermint and decay. At first her tight skin resisted him, and he swore at her until he found the way in...’

Terrified, shocked and swept. Nobody would ever forget those lines when Kelly Brown, the first character introduced by Pat Barker in this novel, is being occupied by the man. Terrified, yes, for Barker described the episodes with a smooth, terrifying and emotionally-throbbing plot with a very descriptive language that suck our mind into it. Shocked, certainly, for she had successfully managed to create a nice flowing story where we keep questioning about Kelly’s mind and her next fate, which make us decide to keep on following that little girl wherever she go in order to peek right into every single action that she did, and guessing on what would probably happen to her. And yes, as we got the result, still we got that striking shocking sensation for Barker had managed to frame and play with that cliché episode carefully so it doesn’t come out to be cliché at all. And for sure yes we got swept, for the author had made our mind so engaged with the character that we even beg and wish unconsciously when it has come to the line when we finally made our guess that yes, that man is going to rape her, that no, we wish so bad that it is not happening. We wished as if we were Kelly, as if we were thinking as she did, and feel the same fear as she was.

Probably those descriptions might sound a little bit too exaggerated. There’s no way a writer could create such superb sensation, well at least not on her FIRST NOVEL, right? And by the way, what the hell is this about anyway? She called it a novel but she had made it as if it is a collection of short story with titled the main character’s name each. Is it because she hadn’t been able to develop a full and long story just like a novel supposed to be so she decided to divided into several shorter stories describing each character’s life? And who’s the main character of this novel anyway? If she decided to tell every single inches of each character’s life, then which one did she meant to be the bold one just like a main character supposed to be?

Questions, questions, questions. And yes, to be able to answer those you definitely need to read this book. It’s a fun searching though, you will find yourself enjoy your trip on searching for the answer of those questions, but probably it is not enjoyable as in relaxing and cheering kind of way, for this novel is deep, almost depressing.

It is a novel which tells a story about a street, called Union Street, where people from working class lived and died. There are people living in that street, and each character has their own stories, their own suffers, their own masks, and yet their own happiness, or escapes. And as you read the story one by one, character per character, yes you’ll get the sensation of being terrified, shocked and swept at once for these stories are alive and stayed in our minds even after we finish reading it. Just like we won’t forget Kelly’s pain and anger, we will feel Joanne Wilson’s fear and dilemmas, Lisa Goddard’s burden, Muriel Scaife’s sorrow, and so on and so on. Barker uses a very strong and descriptive language, as well as a nice flowing yet hard-to-predict plot which really contributes in her success in creating such sense. She zooms up close to a significant or emblematic detail to magnify the scene for the reader. Depending on the detail she chooses, the effect can be vivid, moving, shocking.

Furthermore you’ll see then, that Union Street is not a collection of short stories, each story of each character are united by a thin red line, the street, the fact that they live in the same street allocated for the working class people, Union Street. This fact shows that even though they carve up different problems and tales, they share one similarity; they are living poorly and are all working-class women, who try to survive. Barker’s trying to picture this condition of working-class life, and she chose women as the characters that she wants to explore and emphasize to portrait their struggle towards the disheartening situations.

And in this novel, every character is the main character, for she believed that every eye has it own vision and every heart has its own beats. The women in this novel are the main character of their own life, and every single inch of their life is meaningful and poignant. All of their stories contribute and strengthen the same idea, that life is a battle for the survivor.

So if you’re looking for a fluffy lovey fairy tale with lots of beautiful dreams and sweet tingling sensations, here’s a suggestion; find another book, for this is the kind of book that will always pat in you in the head in every single line you read to remind you the reality of the life. If you the kind of person who reads for fun to escape from your already tough daily stressful work, you won’t find this book relaxing. Well, probably not at all scenes, there is still a humorous section with a bit of sexual content in Blonde Dinah’s chapter, you can skip the entire chapter and read that one. It is still quite depressing and touching in a way to find out or to guess her real miserable life or feeling, but there’s still the funny sexual content, you might enjoy that. But yes, if you’re looking for a good book with an admirable exploration on languages which carry your emotion deeply and keep your feet on the ground, you will definitely enjoy this one.

Prettier Eyes to See Prettier World

A Review on Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye

…“Please, God,” she whispered into the palm of her hand. “Please make me disappear.” She squeezed her eyes shut. Little parts of her body faded away. Now slowly, now with a rush. Slowly again. Her fingers went, one by one; then her arms disappeared all the way to the elbow. Then her chest, her neck. The face was hard, too. Almost done, almost. Only her tight, tight eyes were left. They were always left.

Try as she might, she could never get her eyes to disappear. So what was the point? They were everything. Everything was there, in them…

Everything was there indeed. Pecola Breedlove couldn’t be able to make her own self whole fully disappear from this catastrophic and miserable life. Her eyes were always left, forcing her to see the world with those eyes. World full of calamity and misery, world of never-ending whipping and beating, world where you see yourself seen with a distant gaze, a total absence of human recognition even by the storeowner from whom you bought candy, world where your friends, if you might call them so, use your name to mock others, world where you see other kid call your mother Polly, a given name you could never ever dare to give to your mother, world where you’re always afraid, world of pain, world of total submission.

You could not possibly do anything about it, for your eyes were always there. Like it or not they would seemingly force you to see that world. And even for the worst part of it; those eyes let you see yourself, there in the mirror. Your face, stood there in a nauseating distant. You’d then begin to see and realize that your face stood there without the skin of fairest complexion and without a sheer of beautiful pink blush on each cheek, without the hair which is dazzlingly blond and the curls that shines, and the eyes which is so not beautiful, which is not blue. Those eyes force you to see all of the ugliness of life, all of the ugliness that could ever bear by a person.

Pecola Breedlove could no longer bear those ugliness. And because God couldn’t grant her wish to make her eyes disappear to save her from seeing those ugliness, she’s thinking of another wish. Another wish that would solve her problem. She wished and she prayed to God, to make her eyes blue. Because blue eyes are pretty and if she could see through prettier eyes, then probably she would see prettier world. Probably everything would be better if she’s prettier.

It’s a complete package of pain, anger and pitiful feeling as Toni Morrison, the author of this novel, brought the issue of racist beauty through this novel. At first she brought up the issue of standard beauty with the haven standard of living; a happy beautiful white family with pets in a happy beautiful house. If everyone wants to seek for a happy life, everyone should refer to that concept. The results for those who can not fulfilled to reach those described, however, is a mix of frustration and anger.

The frustration and the anger are everywhere in this novel. We can feel it in the deep thought of mostly all characters. What is interesting is that their frustration and anger was also the root of other character’s frustration and anger. For instance, Pauline Breedlove, who can not fulfill her standard of happiness she dug up from beautiful actor and actress in the movie screen, uttered her frustration and anger to her family that she considered as a part of her devastated life, something that she always want to deny. The fact that she bore two ugly, not beautiful, children were making her denial even worse. Similar case occurred also in other characters in this novel.

In Pecola Breedlove, the main character of this novel, the frustration and anger had somehow gathered in a different retort of reaction and emotion. For all the calamity, misery and sadness she felt, she was trapped in a situation of hatred and powerless at the same time. This powerless made her could not do anything to save her from her feeling of frustration and anger. The only elucidation she could think of to cope with the situation is to eliminate the ugliness from her, something that she believed as the cause of her frustration and anger.

As a result of her elucidation conversely is the bridge that brings the reader of this novel to the whole real message conveyed by its novel. That’s why it is even more astonishing and enjoyable for the reader to read this novel more than once, because by reading the novel over again several loop holes within the whole flow of the story that would only be patched as the message is fully conveyed would be whole fully patched up, thus make the story even more heart-throbbing.

The issue of racist beauty chosen by Toni Morrison is a strong point that emphasized the eminence of this novel. She successfully conveys the anxiety of the black society in answering the concept of standard beauty. With Pecola Breedlove as her tool, she gives a picture of frustration and anger in the community at that moment. As the result, she left the reader with the feeling of touched, petrified, after finishing this novel. Yet the philosophic questions will still linger, if you were prettier, would life be better?

A Puzzle Game

A Review about the Novel ‘Snake’ by Dewi Anggraeni.

Reading Dewi Anggraeni’s Snake is like playing the jigsaw puzzle game without knowing how the puzzle would be when it has already performed in full form at the end of the game. The excitement you’d have at first, the curiosity that pump up in your mind, and the challenging sensation that tingling in your minds for finishing the game.

And yes, likewise any puzzle games that touch your curiosity, so does this novel successfully done in building the heat of the story, well at least at the first parts of the novel. Enriched with the unique cultural elements of the East, by dissolving the exoticness of the East such as superstitions, unique customs as well as the meeting of the East culture and West culture – Serena, the central character of this novel, is described as a mix-blooded of a Chinese-Sundanese mother and an Australian father – make this novel is appealing and elicits the readers’ curiosity.

So, as the first page of the story within this novel is opened, the game then starts to begin. Pieces by pieces of puzzle are thrown everywhere and it’s the readers’ duty to collect those pieces one by one in order to make them a complete form. At first, it’s a very exciting game. As soon as you find the first pieces, which introduce you to the journey, you’ll begin to enjoy it. There is the description about Serena, a brief explanation about her life, a little touch about her love life and quite appealing sensations about the East culture in the first piece of the puzzle you’ll find. And then, as you continue the game, the next piece you’ll find will give you a little clue about how finally the puzzle would be then. It’s about the Snake brooch that Serena got and the mystery that surrounds it which would really attach your curiosity. You’ll then feel the sense of mystery which most likely is the most visible factor for you to keep on playing and enjoying your puzzle game.

However, as the story flows, as a player of this game you have to keep on searching for every single pieces of puzzle which are scattered around in order to make it a one finished work. Unfortunately, Dewi had made too many puzzle pieces and she had scattered them too far that makes the readers rather confused to collect them all along and to arrange them correctly. For instance, the pieces she made about the family ties and the long-winded description about minor characters who rather irrelevant and unimportant to the main picture of the novel. It seems like she has made too many unnecessary pieces, describing about unimportant details and forget her duty to emphasis the most important picture she wants the readers to see within the puzzle game she made. As a result of this, the pulse and excitement as well as the curiosity the readers had already have at the beginning of the game will beginning to decrease as they are forced to collect every single pieces, some of them are really confusing, in order to finish the game.

This is quite risky, however, if Dewi had wanted to create a puzzle full of mysterious journey, she ought to make it more intense. Even if she decided to make a huge number of puzzle pieces, each piece should contribute to shocking, relevant and important details of the picture so the readers would keep on searching for other pieces because each piece will attach them deeper and deeper to the game and deepening the excitement. By creating too many unnecessary and monotone details, not only is Dewi retarding the process of finding the puzzle pieces, but also forcing the readers to develop an extra patient if they want to finish the puzzle game.

Nothings would be matter then if the players of the puzzle game, in this case, the readers, are patient and persevering enough to work on the puzzle until the last pieces and see how it looks like at last. The rewards would be a beautiful picture that might be seen as a unique picture of the melting point and the exoticness between the East and the West. But that would never be happened and the picture would never be seen if the readers get too bored and impatient with the game. Instead of enjoying the beautiful picture, they’ll leave the game immediately.

when frankenstein is combined with an uproar true story

When Frankenstein is Combined with an Uproar True Story

A Review on Peter Carey’s My Life As A Fake

If you are a writer, or a director, or a comic strip artist, or whoever person involves in a process of making an imagery character to live up the story you’re making, have you ever thought, or imagined, that somewhere, somehow, your imagery character is happened to be a true and a real authentic person, living up his or her life on her daily ordinary life which is precisely the same as the one you’ve designed through your story?

Knowing the sudden fact that your inventions had somehow became reality would probably makes your minds fill up with enough eeriness and strange sensations. Now, let’s imagine that your supposedly-imagery character then turns out to be your stalker, one that haunt you with lots of questions and follows you wherever you go, unquestionably it will freak you out!

Those dreadful premises probably were the one trigger Peter Carey to write this book. Having the Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein note on his first page, Carey underlines the fear of creating a real monster through your imagination that will someday then pursuit and ruin your life, in which he splendidly describe and transform to this appealing novel.

Actually, Carey did more than just describing the fear inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. He combined it with an uproar true-story based incident happened in Australia in 1944, where an imagery poet was invented by some other poets to trick or to make fool one editor of a magazine called ‘Angry Penguins’. The imagery poet was named Ern Malley, whose poems was so fascinated the editor of that magazine, named Max Harris, who afterward recalled Malley as someone so brilliant that even at the time when he finally found out that Ern Malley was only a hoax made to humiliate him; he still believed that Malley was somewhere out there, alive and breathing.

In My Life as A Fake, Carey transforms the hoax in the form of fraud character made by Christopher Chubb to treat a lesson to David Weiss, an editor of a poetry magazine, who is envied by Chubb. The hoax character invented by Chubb was named Bob McCorcle, and it’s successfully tricked Weiss whom then publish the hoax and grant the poems made by McCorcle, in this case is Chubb as the inventor. Later on, because Weiss publish that poem, he then fell into an accusation of exposing obscenity and has to be trial in court. Suffer from the humiliation, Weiss was reported killed himself after the court.

Interestingly, and fruitfully unique, Peter Carey dissolve that inspired-from-a-true-story element with the fear of having created a monster inspired by Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. As the story flows, surprisingly Chubb was shocked by the fact that there’s this man, described with disturbing giant figure and big forehead, which came and claimed himself as the real Bob McCorcle. The sudden appearance of the real Bob McCorcle was said to be the real cause of Weiss’ death, and much more than that, he turned out to be a stalker to Chubb’s life and even had ruined his life for fifteen years, as well as being the perpetrator of his daughter’s kidnapping which involved him in a long yet interesting pursuit adventure in the Malay and Indonesian jungle. As a result, Carey had invented an attention-grabbing story full of unusual ideas and interesting descriptions about the Malay-Indonesian culture here and there. He even makes Chubb’s dialogue so singlish that I found it as one other thing that would make this novel is considered favorable.

Another thing unique from this novel is the existence of a character named Sarah Douglass, an editor of London poetry magazine, who acts as a narrator in this story. She tries to writes the story of Chubb and his becoming-real invention, Bob McCorcle. But Sarah is not only functioned as a narrator, she too has her own story which later on revealed as the story flows. In where later on the reader would probably see her life as what is referred by this novel’s title; My Life as A Fake. Whose life as a fake anyway? Well, it could be Chubb’s, McCorcle’s, Sarah’s or even all of them.

With those unique, intense and strong plot which drag the reader’s question even until the last page and the appealing description of Malay and Indonesian culture here and there, this novel is so worth reading. The only flaw contained in this novel is probably the method of no punctuations used by Carey. It might considered unique at first, but as the story flows and becoming more complex, especially at the time when Sarah’s acting as a narrator of a story narrate by Chubb, the punctuationless makes the story rather difficult to understand because the readers are often forced to figure out who’s saying who. However, aside from that, for those of you who seek for good book with touch of unique culture in it, you won’t find any regret reading this book.

Sunday, December 05, 2004

Across The Universe... renungan tengah malam ku...

Across The Universe

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass,
they slip away across the universe

Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru de va om

Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om

Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing
Through my open ears inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
Million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om

Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Jai guru de va,
jai guru de va
Jai guru de va,
jai guru de va
Jai guru de va.
Jai guru de va, jai guru de va.