Thoughts in this particular hour before midnight

I cannot put my thoughts into proper sentences, and I had to rewrite this over and over again in my head. It's just... considering my background as a born Muslim and a humanities studies undergrad, I'm sometimes torn apart between looking at matters through Muslim's eyes or humanities'.

For example, about LGBT... I know how important it is to be free to make your own choices. I know how the coming out of the LGBT community marks an important era of the rise of a minority group. As a woman who studied American history, I see this as a good-meaningful moment because I know how women were considered the second sex once; we were seen as the lower class. We were the minority. And the moment women were started to be treated almost equally, and we got to demand our rights... it changed everything for us. Now, women are more respected. I see the same thing with racism. When black people are finally considered as human beings, as the same with the whites, it was a great thing. As a human, I can't help but see this coming out of LGBT community as the same great thing.

However, as a born Muslim, I am afraid even thinking this way means glorifying sins. 

That's why I'm torn. 

Cerita Musim Panas #4: Singapura! DAY ONE

"The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page." (Augustine of Hippo)

Sebagai pecinta buku dan pecinta kutipan-kutipan mengenai buku, gue pernah merasa kesal membaca kutipan di atas karena belum pernah traveling. Saat itu gue berpikir tidak akan bisa traveling. Gue selalu sulit mendapat izin orang tua. Namun, seiring pertambahan usia, gue akhirnya mendapat izin untuk bepergian dan berangkatlah gue ke Singapura.

Gue tahu, Singapura bukan lagi tujuan asing bagi sebagian besar orang Indonesia (dan mungkin juga sebagian besar masyarakat dunia). Siapa yang tidak kenal Orchard Road dan Little India? Siapa tidak pernah mendengar tentang Patung Merlion? Sedikitnya, orang pasti pernah ke Singapura minimal satu kali. Bahkan bagi gue, perjalanan kemarin ini bukan yang pertama kalinya. Dulu, meski hanya setengah hari, gue sudah pernah merasakan makan di Little India dan mengunjungi Jurong Bird Park.

Meski begitu, perjalanan kemarin adalah kali pertama gue benar-benar berkeliling Singapura.

Hari 1: 2 Agustus 2015

Kami berangkat dari Bandara Soekarno-Hatta pada pukul 11.20. Karena Singapura tidak terlalu jauh, perjalanan hanya memakan waktu kurang lebih satu jam. Di pesawat, tempat duduk kami terpisah. Dua teman gue duduk bersama, sedangkan gue duduk di sebelah seorang nenek yang berasal dari Cibinong.

Seperti biasa kalau suasana hati gue sedang baik, gue bersedia bercakap-cakap (bahkan memulai percakapan) dengan orang asing. Begitu juga yang terjadi dengan si nenek ini. Beliau bercerita tentang tujuannya pergi ke Singapura, yaitu untuk mengunjungi besannya. Katanya, karena disibukkan dengan toko di Cibinong, mereka baru sempat pergi ke Singapura hari itu untuk halal bi halal. Awalnya gue pikir, langka sekali ada keluarga Muslim di Sngapura. Namun, ternyata memang begitu adanya (yang berarti pemikiran gue didasari oleh prasangka semata), dan justru (ini yang menarik) keluarga si nenek sebenarnya Katolik. Anak perempuannya menjadi mualaf setelah bertemu dengan suaminya. Kenapa menarik? Karena setahu gue, pemeluk agama Katolik sama taatnya dengan pemeluk agama Islam sehingga sulit dibayangkan bisa ada yang pindah agama. Tapi, begitulah adanya, dan itu membuktikan kepada saya bahwa tidak ada yang tidak mungkin. 

Sang nenek sangatlah baik. Beliau menawarkan gue makanan, yang jelas gue terima dengan senang hati karena gue memang lapar pada saat itu. Kemudian, saat gue kebingungan mengisi formulir imigrasi (karena itu adalah saat pertama bagi gue), beliau bahkan menawarkan formulir imigrasi anaknya untuk gue lihat sebagai contoh. Beliau bercerita bahwa dulu beliau pun sering bepergian bersama teman-teman ke luar negeri, tapi itu sudah lama sekali ketika masih muda. Sekarang, beliau sudah lupa cara mengisi formulir imigrasi. Gue menikmati perjalanan sambil mengobrol dengan beliau.

Sesampainya di Singapura, gue dan kedua teman langsung menuju tempat pembelian tourist pass agar kami bisa menggunakan transportasi umum Singapura seperti MRT. Kami membaca di blog seorang traveler bahwa tourist pass cukup memudahkan (dan memurahkan) turis untuk berkeliling Singapura. Untuk tiga hari, harganya dua puluh dolar Singapura. Untuk tiketnya sendiri seharga sepuluh dolar Singapura, menjadikannya total 30 SGD, tapi tiket itu bisa diuangkan kembali setelah tiga hari. Hal itu bagus karena bisa dijadikan uang pegangan. Kita akan masih punya 10 SGD saat pulang nanti.

Setelah membeli tourist pass, kami segera bergerak menuju halte MRT Lavender, karena penginapan kami berada di sekitar situ. Kami berencana untuk menaruh barang, lalu segera pergi. Karena kami hanya punya waktu tiga hari di Singapura, kami harus memanfaatkan waktu yang ada dengan sebaik-baiknya.

Nama penginapan kami adalah Gusti Bed and Breakfast. Pemiliknya bisa berbahasa Indonesia (dan menurut salah satu teman, di daerah itu memang ada banyak orang Indonesia), dan konon suaminya orang Bali. Namun, gue tidak bertanya-tanya lebih lanjut mengenai ini.

Satu hal yang menarik dari penginapan itu adalah dia berfungsi sebagai shared room. Artinya, nanti kami akan berbagi kamar dengan turis-turis lain, baik dari Indonesia maupun mancanegara. Laki-laki ataupun perempuan akan ditempatkan seadanya kamar kosong, yang berarti kami tidak bisa terlalu pilih-pilih. Awalnya, gue khawatir dengan keamanannya. Tapi, prospek bertemu traveler lain terlalu menyenangkan untuk diabaikan.

Saat kami tiba di sana, kamar kami kosong. Hanya ada sebuah koper dengan name tag yang menunjukkan nama yang sangat Indonesia. Kebetulan juga, kata si pemilik, hanya ada perempuan di kamar kami. Kami meletakkan barang-barang, kemudian segera pergi untuk petualangan pertama kami.

Makan di Little India
Menurut Google, ada Festival Makanan Singapura hari itu. Karena kami bingung mau makan apa dan festival makanan terdengar menarik, kami memutuskan akan mengunjungi festival itu terlebih dulu. Namun, di Google, tidak ada lokasi jelas mengenai keberadaan si festival. Kami bertanya pada pemilik penginapan, katanya terletak di seberang Bugis Junction. Itulah alasan Bugis Street jadi tempat pertama yang kami kunjungi.

Namun, saat kami tiba di Bugis Street, tidak terlihat adanya festival makanan. Kami memutuskan untuk bertanya pada salesperson yang sedang membagi-bagikan pamflet di depan Bugis Junction. Dia sangat baik; dia tidak tahu juga tentang lokasinya, tapi dia berusaha mencarikan di internet. Sayangnya, tidak ada petunjuk jelas mengenai si festival. Hingga hari ini, kami masih bingung festival itu ada di mana.

Karena lapar, kami akhirnya memutuskan makan yang paling aman kehalalannya, yaitu restoran vegetarian di Little India. Kami dipandu ke sana oleh seorang guru seni yang kami temui di jalan. Fara yang bertanya padanya. Dia merekomendasikan restoran Komala Villas. Jadilah, makanan pertama kami di Singapura adalah makanan India.

Chappati plate dan set nasi biryani

Meski kurang cocok di lidah gue, sehingga gue tidak bisa makan terlalu banyak, gue mau makan makanan India lagi dan lagi. Ini kedua kalinya gue makan set nasi biryani; yang pertama di restoran India vegetarian yang terletak tidak jauh dari Komala Villas, yaitu Ananda Bhavan. Rasanya kurang lebih sama.

Kesan gue saat berada di Little India adalah bahwa tempat itu sangat ramai. Gue tidak tahu seperti apa aslinya rupa kota di India, tapi Little India sendiri jelas berbeda dari tempat-tempat lain di Singapura yang nanti satu per satu akan gue ceritakan. Di Little India, pasar segar - atau kios-kios yang menjual buah, paling tidak - cukup banyak terlihat. Kemudian, banyak penjual gelang-gelang manik-manik. Lalu, ada wangi dupa atau semacamnya (?) yang cukup kentara di tiap toko yang kami kunjungi.

Laser Show @ Marina Bay Sands
Kami tidak menghabiskan banyak waktu di Little India karena konon ada pertunjukkan laser di Marina Bay Sands. Jadi, kami naik MRT ke sana. Kendaraan umum di Singapura, jika dibandingkan dengan di Indonesia, jauh sekali bedanya. Di sana, kendaraan umum memfasilitasi warga lokal maupun turis dengan  sangat baik. Petunjuknya jelas dan mudah dimengerti. Kita hanya perlu membaca. Ditambah lagi, bahasa Inggris merupakan salah satu bahasa dominan di sana sehingga untuk menanyakan arah bisa lebih mudah. Warga Singapura pun, mungkin karena Singapura adalah negara yang banyak dikunjungi, terbuka terhadap turis dan sangat membantu.

Pokoknya, malam itu, dengan mudah kami mencapai Marina Bay Sands. Dari stasiun MRT ke lokasi pertunjukan, kami berjalan kaki. Menurut gue, jaraknya tidak terlalu jauh. Jalanan di sana rapi dan lebih kosong daripada jalanan Jakarta, jadi kondisi untuk jalan kaki pun lebih nyaman.

Sesampainya di lokasi, kami disambut oleh gemerlap lampu hias tersebar di seluruh area. Ada patung-patung angka yang menunjukkan pertumbuhan negara Singapura. Ada musisi jalanan yang memainkan alat musik tradisional China. Ada bangku-bangku santai tempat berbaring menikmati sungai (atau laut?) di malam hari yang dikelilingi lampu-lampu bangunan pencakar langit Singapura.

Suasana seperti itu saja sudah indah buat gue, meski terlalu romantis untuk dinikmati bersama teman-teman sesama jomblo, tapi pertunjukkan lasernya jauh lebih indah. Luar biasa!

Anyway, kami harus segera pulang karena takut ketinggalan MRT terakhir. Jadilah kami tidak menonton pertunjukkan lasernya hingga akhir. Sebelum pulang, kami sempatkan mengejar foto dengan bianglala dan Esplanade yang terlihat seperti durian raksasa dari kejauhan. Mungkin karena capek setelah seharian bergerak nonstop, gue sedikit sebal karena sedikit-sedikit harus foto. Gue yang tidak suka durian jadi semakin sebal dengan durian karena seseorang memastikan dirinya foto dengan Esplanade sebagai latar dari berbagai sisi. Tapi, ini baru setengah hari pertama. Buat apa bersungut-sungut karena itu?

Teman-teman seperjalanan gue mengeluh kaki mereka sakit karena alas kaki yang mereka gunakan kurang memadai dari segi kenyamanan. Tapi, apa daya, kami harus berjalan agar sampai ke penginapan. Meski pelan-pelan, akhirnya kami tiba di stasiun MRT dan kemudian naik MRT sampai di Stasiun Lavender yang berada di dekat penginapan. Dari sana, kami jalan lagi ke penginapan.

First Roommates
Kami bertanya-tanya siapa yang akan jadi teman sekamar kami. Jelas sekali orang Indonesia, tapi orang yang seperti apa? Saat kami tiba di kamar, ternyata mereka adalah cewek-cewek seusia kami. Awalnya, kami merasa senang karena teman seusia berarti teman. Namun, setelah mengamati, mereka ini ternyata semacam snob. Tanpa maksud mendiskreditkan anak-anak gaul, karena gaul itu boleh saja dan malah keren di saat-saat tertentu, di mata gue saat itu, mereka ini cuma tahu gaul. Sedikit bodoh dan jelas ignorant meski katanya mereka lulusan universitas ternama.

Bagi gue, shared room berarti kita harus berinteraksi dengan penghuni kamar selain kita. Buat apa pilih shared room kalau kita mau memperlakukan kamar seolah itu hanya dihuni oleh kita dan teman-teman kita? Shared room tidak seperti kendaraan umum di mana kita bisa duduk tanpa menyapa kanan-kiri. Kalau mau begitu, ada baiknya silakan saja menyewa kamar pribadi.

Tapi, karena memiliki pendapat berbeda itu sah-sah saja, jadi gue harus memaklumi mereka yang kelihatannya memiliki pendapat berbeda ini. Sebelumnya, dari mana gue tahu mereka punya pendapat berbeda? Alkisah, di kamar itu ada penghuni lain seperti mereka, yaitu seorang bapak yang tidak kelihatan rupanya karena konon pergi dari pagi hingga larut malam.  Sepertinya ada kesalahpahaman antara pemilik penginapan dengan si bapak, karena pemilik penginapan memberikan tempat tidur si bapak untuk gue. Jadilah gue bertanya-tanya pada cewek-cewek ini tentang teman sekamar mereka. Ternyata, cewek-cewek ini tidak tahu-menahu tentang si bapak.

Ada hal yang lucu tentang ini. Cewek-cewek itu bilang mereka suka menggosipkan si bapak yang konon mengorok dengan keras. Gue diam saja karena gue saat itu sedang dalam mode pengamatan; gue belum tahu kisah mereka. Lalu, karena gue perlu berinteraksi dengan si bapak mengenai masalah tempat tidur itu, gue mengajaknya ngobrol. Awalnya, dalam bahasa Inggris. Kemudian, dalam bahasa Indonesia. Ternyata si bapak adalah orang Indonesia! Gue berpikir, bagaimana perasaan cewek-cewek itu begitu tahu si bapak orang Indonesia.

Hal lucu kedua tentang gosip cewek-cewek itu adalah karena ternyata dua dari mereka mengorok dengan jauh lebih keras daripada si bapak. Mereka itu sekumpulan lelucon.

Kekesalan gue terhadap cewek-cewek itu didasari oleh kesan tidak sopan yang mereka tampilkan. Tanpa izin, mereka memakai extension colokan yang ada di kamar. Kami pikir itu punya mereka, mereka pikir itu punya kami. Ternyata itu punya si bapak. Kalau mereka sopan, tentu mereka akan meminta izin dulu kepada kami kalau mereka benar berpikir itu punya kami. Sekarang, itu ternyata punya si bapak, dan bahkan setelah mereka tahu, mereka bersikap seolah mereka tidak mendengar. Bicaranya, sih, mau belanja di Sephora, mau naik taksi ke sana dan ke sini, pamer ini-itu ke sosial media... tapi dengan sopan-santun minus seperti itu, kalau gue jadi mereka, gue akan malu.

Ditambah lagi, mereka sangat menyebalkan soal miskomunikasi tempat tidur itu. Tipikal orang yang hanya banyak bicara tanpa memberikan solusi. Tapi, sungguh, kekesalan gue menguap begitu gue mendengar cewek-cewek itu mengorok dengan keras. Bukan karena mengoroknya, karena semua orang bisa mengorok, gue pun begitu - tapi lebih karena mereka SANGAT termakan omongan sendiri. Sungguh, lain kali gue mungkin lebih baik ikut bergosip dengan mereka tentang mereka sendiri. Betapa lucunya.

Cerita Musim Panas #3: Kedua Kalinya di Yogyakarta Tahun Ini!

Melanjutkan koleksi cerita musim panas yang sudah gue mulai dari musim panas dua tahun lalu, pada artikel ini gue akan menggunakan Bahasa Indonesia. Lagipula, gue memang agak merindukan bahasa negeri Ibu Pertiwi ini semenjak perjalanan yang akan gue ceritakan nanti pada bagian selanjutnya ;)

Musim panas sepertinya selalu tersenyum pada gue. Tidak hanya dua tahun lalu, pun 2014 musim panas gue dihiasi dengan kegembiraan. Jika pada tahun 2013 musim panas gue dihiasi dengan konser G-Dragon dan perjalanan bersama teman-teman Sastra Inggris ke Pulau Pramuka, pada tahun 2014 musim panas gue diisi oleh kelulusan dari Fakultas Ilmu Pengetahuan Budaya - kelulusan yang diperindah juga karena terlaksana bersama sebagian teman-teman terdekat. Kemudian, tentu saja, ada ulang tahun yang selalu menjadi hari bahagia bagi gue. Mungkin bisa dibilang, bagi gue, ulang tahun tidak hanya di tanggal 22, melainkan satu bulan itu.

Tahun 2015 ini, musim panas kembali mengajak gue tersenyum dengan dua perjalanan besar. Yang pertama adalah perjalanan ke Yogya.

Yogyakarta, hingga perjalanan itu dilangsungkan, belum pernah memberikan kenangan yang begitu indah. Bukan karena tempat dan pemandangan yang tidak indah, melainkan karena dengan siapa gue pergi seringkali sangat mempengaruhi suasana hati gue. Sejujurnya, gue sedikit murung karena Yogya seharusnya adalah kota yang menenangkan. Jadi, meski sempat sedikit trauma dan tidak mau kembali ke Yogya untuk waktu lama, gue bertekad akan kembali ke Yogya untuk 'memperbaiki nama Yogya' di hati gue.

Jadilah tawaran Naya untuk menemaninya menemani Bela berlibur gue iyakan.

Kami menghabiskan waktu empat hari di sana, mulai tanggal 27 hingga 30 Juli. Hari pertama, begitu sampai, kami pergi ke hotel dan meletakkan barang. Salah satu dari keuntungan bepergian bersama Naya adalah karena fasilitasnya terjamin. Dulu ketika kami ke Bandung pun begitu.

Setelah bersih-bersih dan sholat, kami melanjutkan perjalanan ke luar. Kami tiba saat hari sudah menjelang malam, jadi waktu kami tidak banyak. Namun, kami memaksimalkan penggunaan waktu itu. Kami coba Gudeg Yu Djum cabang Malioboro yang ternyata kurang begitu terasa bumbunya. Lalu, kami pergi ke Alun-alun Kidul untuk naik becak hias/mobil hias yang terkenal itu.

Becak Hias

Dan yang di bawah ini kami di depan becak hias yang kami kendarai.

Seperti biasa, gue dengan kenafsuan gue segera berhasrat untuk mengitari Alkid sebanyak dua kali, tapi mas penjaga becak langsung menyarankan coba dulu saja sekali, baru nanti putuskan mau lanjut atau tidak. Ternyata gue memang perlu di-rem, karena setelah coba sekali, gue cepat capek.

Malam itu, kami juga ke Pasar Beringharjo karena Fajar titip beli apa saja yang aneh-aneh. Namun, memang, ya, ke Pasar Beringharjo di malam hari perlu pendamping laki-laki. Di sana, penjualnya mayoritas laki-laki, pembelinya juga mayoritas laki-laki. Gue memang jarang digodai karena mungkin mereka tidak berpikir gue terlihat cukup menarik, tapi Naya dan Bela rupanya lumayan dianggap menarik sehingga mereka sering dipanggil-panggil dan digoda-godai. Karena kasihan, akhirnya kami tidak menghabiskan waktu lama di sana.

*

Keesokan harinya, Bela jalan bersama pacarnya, sementara gue dan Naya memutuskan mencoba menaiki TransJogja yang meski menurut beberapa sumber jeleknya minta ampun, ternyata toh baik-baik saja dan enak digunakan. Cukup membantu bagi turis lokal seperti gue dan Naya.

Tujuan pertama kami dengan TransJogja itu adalah Kebon Binatang Gembira Loka. Gue dan Naya yang sebenarnya tidak punya tujuan konkrit akhirnya memutuskan melihat-lihat binatang. Untungnya, setiba kami di sana, Kebon Binatang Gembira Loka lebih memuaskan daripada ekspektasi gue.

Di sana, pengunjung bisa memberi makan burung dan berinteraksi langsung dengan merak yang dilepas begitu saja di taman burung.

Kemudian, mungkin karena kecil dan tidak terlalu banyak pengunjung (yang mungkin juga disebabkan itu hari sekolah), interaksi dengan binatag lebih mudah.

Begitulah hari kami di Gembira Loka. Tempatnya sendiri luas, tetapi masih bisa dikitari dengan jalan kaki saja. Tentu bila dibandingkan dengan Taman Safari, kebon binatang ini jauh lebih kecil ukurannya. Namun, menurut gue, tidak masalah selama pengunjung bisa melihat semuanya.

Keesokan harinya, kami pergi ke Candi Prambanan.

Tidak banyak yang bisa dilihat karena hampir setengah bagian area Candi Prambanan sedang direnovasi. Lalu, karena yang menemani bukanlah seseorang dengan ketertarikan pada situs-situs bersejarah, jadilah gue lebih banyak bengong mencoba menghayati syahdunya Prambanan. Salah juga, sih, karena saat itu di sana ramai dengan turis-turis yang hanya mencari spot-spot foto keren. Gue jadi inget saat-saat ke sana bareng murid-murid SMA yang tertarik dengan sejarah dan menceritakan pada gue sejarah masing-masing candi bak pemandu wisata handal.

Terkadang kangen murid juga ya, ternyata.

Selama di Yogya, kami pergi juga ke Taman Sari dan Kraton, tapi tidak terlalu banyak yang bisa diceritakan. Meski Yogya masih belum memberikan kenangan yang luar biasa mengesankan, liburan kali ini sudah merupakan kemajuan besar dari kenangan buruk yang diberikan perjalanan-perjalanan sebelumnya. Memang, dengan siapa kita pergi sangat berpengaruh pada kesan yang kita dapat.

Saat-saat paling membahagiakan bagi gue saat di Yogya adalah di malam terakhir ketika gue berkeliling Malioboro sendirian dan menemukan kedamaian dalam keramaian, kemudian menemukan kegembiraan dalam pertunjukkan seni angklung dan tari di jalanan Malioboro. Rasanya memang seperti itulah Yogyakarta yang seharusnya.

Semoga pada perjalanan ke Yogya selanjutnya, bisa lebih mengesankan!

My Happiness Project

I was unhappy just recently. A friend of mine shared the same unhappiness. My unhappiness was mostly caused by the blunder at work, and it dragged me to the point where other things in my life seemed as helpless and pointless. I felt like a failure. And of course the fact that I am still single in an environment where my friends are getting married or having the time of their life with their significant others adds another element of despair.

Thus, we, the unhappy people, decided to work on our happiness project. Basically, the idea is to open up more and to be grateful of little things in life, such as trying new things. In tonight's post, I would like to share how our happiness project going.

1) A jar of yearly happiness.

This project has actually been going on since last year, when I was working on my bachelor thesis. I was happy then, but I saw this brilliant idea on Instagram/Tumblr, and I was inspired to work on my own yearly happiness. So what you have to do is to write on a piece of small paper the things or moments that make you happy, or at least smile. The importance of this project is to appreciate the small happiness in your everyday life. It will go into effect when you look at your jar and see it filled with small rolls of paper, and when you open them all on the last day of the year. You will realize then how you are blessed with many happiness throughout the year. It reminds you to be thankful over and over again.

2) Quora

Quora is a website for open discussions about many things. My friend recommended it to me. We are both often take life too seriously and, man, are we thinkers. We contemplate about a lot of things: about finding love, about being judged by appearance, about not being beauty enough according to society's standards, about happiness, about religion and faith, about money, about the philosophy of life. In Quora, you meet many over-contemplating people alike, and you encounter many interesting questions and answers that just help channeling your inner thirst for discussion. Believe me, engaging yourself in Quora helps you (especially if you are as curious about the society with whom we live today as my friend and I). 

So far, the two things help me finding happiness. They free a little part of me who wants to fly away from the maze called reality. And they help me see that reality's not all bad.

3) Being a 'Yes' Man/Woman
Opening up and seeing life with new (better) perspective, more positive outlook, are easier said than done. However, being a 'Yes' woman can be one of the ways to start. My friend starts to use online community app to connect with new people, therefore creating new bonds and bringing fresh experience to her life. She also starts to accept blind dates arranged by her friends, therefore, again, creating new bonds and bringing fresh experience. Although it doesn't necessarily mean a lover is guaranteed for her, getting to know new people and expanding her world help her to see how small her problems are compared to the wide, wide universe surrounding her. As for me, I am not so lucky to have blind dates arranged for me (yet), but I try my best to believe my new connections are just around the corner.  

For those of you who happen to encounter similar problems and need to find happiness, I recommend the three for you. x

On Leaving School and Moving Forward

For those of you who don't know (and who might care enough to read this post - I know one of my students follow my blog, so this is for if you read it), I am leaving school. It'll probably be official on July 5. The reason of leaving is not important for you, but just know that IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF YOU GUYS. Students were never the reason.

Anyway, I think it is great to know that in that short period, I got new friends. I made new bonds. I know this because earlier someone sent me the quote about friends and she told me I am a good enough friend. It warmed my heart, truly. And some fellow teachers actually told me they will miss me when I'm gone. I don't know if this is the Leo part in me (I'm actually the Cusp of Exposure, so I'm part-Leo, part-Virgo), but those kinds of thing make me happy; you know, to be liked. It sounds pathetic, I know.

Some of my students also said that they will miss me, and - this was the surprising part - some of them declared that I was one of their favorite teachers. I have zero talent in teaching, and I am aware some students (if not all) see me as an Omega, so the declaration came off as a pleasant surprise for me. At least they consider me as a friend. I'd like to keep it that way if they would.

Unfortunately, this melancholy is not enough to keep me here. Overall, I still think my decision to leave work at school is the best for us all, although it had been completely unannounced until the very last second and I really am sorry for that. 

Hence, now is the time for another new chapter in 2015. I honestly don't want to look back at the unfortunate events that have happened if it is not necessary. I got my life back, why bother getting burnt by the past? Let's just hope this one lasts longer that the previous one.

Almost!

"You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down." - Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon

“I am free, no matter what rules surround me. If I find them tolerable, I tolerate them; if I find them too obnoxious, I break them. I am free because I know that I alone am morally responsible for everything I do.”  - Robert A. Heinlein

“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything - anger, anxiety, or possessions - we cannot be free.” - Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy, and Liberation

“And the turtles, of course...all the turtles are free, as turtles and, maybe, all creatures should be.” - Dr. Seuss, Yertle the Turtle and Other Stories

“If other people do not understand our behavior—so what? Their request that we must only do what they understand is an attempt to dictate to us. If this is being "asocial" or "irrational" in their eyes, so be it. Mostly they resent our freedom and our courage to be ourselves. We owe nobody an explanation or an accounting, as long as our acts do not hurt or infringe on them. How many lives have been ruined by this need to "explain," which usually implies that the explanation be "understood," i.e. approved. Let your deeds be judged, and from your deeds, your real intentions, but know that a free person owes an explanation only to himself—to his reason and his conscience—and to the few who may have a justified claim for explanation.” - Erich Fromm, The Art of Being 

 “She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom.” - Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter

 “Free at last, Free at last, Thank God almighty we are free at last.” - Martin Luther King Jr., I Have a Dream: Writings and Speeches That Changed the World

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So, the reason behind these rows of quotes about freedom is the fact that I have submitted my resignation letter to the school. Well, technically, it was not a letter, but I have spoken to the human resource division and they warmly welcomed my resignation. 

I cannot explain how I thankful I was for being received so pleasantly although she said how hard it is to find new teachers, especially when I notified them in such short notice. In my defense, there is no rule in the legal contract that says I have to notify them at least three months before the end of the contract term. I was still in probation period, anyway. We would have to sit and talk about the continuation of my stay there, anyway. And I have planned to quit, anyway. 

The only problem now is my co-worker, my partner in class, the one who hired me. I haven't told her yet, but I think I will as soon as the term really ends. That means I probably will do it after the graduation. 

My attitude toward this whole thing is sorry not sorry. I am not too sorry about leaving the school in such difficult situation because I just am not. There are too many painful things there and I'd better save my ass before it stuck longer and I can't bail. I know I've made the right decision for now because I felt lighthearted almost as soon as I notified the school.

If you (or anyone) must know, the students were never the reason for me to leave. They could be difficult at times, they could be really disrespectful and think of me more as a peer than a teacher, but they were not so much a pain in the ass. As I am sure I have mentioned somewhere on my previous posts, they were teenagers. They were of age. And they were what teacher is about. I see them the way I see documents that need translating: they are not wrong. The fault is in the aspects surrounding them. 

I won't spoil your reading by giving further detail about the fault because it has been enough said in this post and in other posts regarding my soon-to-be ex-job. Just bear in mind that I am happy enough to have my life back.

I just talked to my mother about my longing heart. Everything in my life lately is about the longing to go, not toward someplace, but from here. About the longing to find God not in a place where God's name has been stained with prejudice and extremity and fanaticism. About the longing to escape from the suffocating reality of a "dry, yeastless factuality".

Sometimes I wonder if she regrets having let me study at the faculty of humanities. I wonder if she regrets having let me read all the books I've read. But my world has become so small; it's trapping me inside. It has become so limited. I am chained to my own life.

Hence, I live many lives. I acquaint myself with great books because

A great book should leave you with many experiences, and slightly exhausted at the end. You live several lives while reading. (William Styron)

 I am so at a point of no return.

Learning from "Life a Pi"

I'm still reading Yann Martel's Life of Pi since months ago, not because I find it boring, but because I can't find the right time to snuggle up and absorb every word of it (and because reading it on my phone brings me headache). Now that I have the book, I'm rereading it from the beginning.

I think at least I have gone through the first chapters of Life of Pi three times and it still fascinates me. Earlier today, an acquaintance told me that this book is a weird book, and I just laughed but I didn't quite understand why. As an over-analyzing person, I reflected on what makes the book appealing to me. Then it occurred to me that the first chapters are about religion and its spirituality. My acquaintance, as far as I know, is not a spiritual person. At least, not that I know of. That's probably why she finds it weird. 

However, if you've read my previous posts, you know how I am attracted to religious stuff more than I'm willing to admit to anyone outside my college circle of friends (of course, because it's them with whom I talk about this subject the most). 

Anyway, I re-encountered my favorite quote today

I find the quote strongly affects me. It does not only say that the essence - or the "soul" - of every religion (at least the three that are mentioned here) is basically the same, but also that we need to see through the differences in rites and practices. If everyone sees this like Martel, wouldn't life be more peaceful?

Saying that Martel was trying to suggest religious toleration using this quote might diminish the true meaning he had in mind while writing the story (because I think it's deeper than toleration; it's about seeing religion apart from its layer of practice and rites, but then again, Oscar Wilde told us that art mirrors its spectator, which in this case, is me).

Anyway, I really like the depiction of Pi. Similar to what I went through with Bodhi in Supernova: Akar (2002), I can really relate myself to Pi's journey of finding God. This book liberated me from my incapability and limitation to experience and to choose because it illustrated that liberty enough as Pi bathed in the clarity of the three religions. 

I am at a loss for words, so I can only say that the world needs more inspiring books like this.

I have been unfair...

...about my job. There are things I like about it, such as the freedom to choose your outfit. You won't have to wear discomforting uniform if you work there. And there are the students. And there are the jokes. And there is the power. And there is the time when you finally see what's it like to become a teacher. Those clarity moments.

All over the place!

My thoughts are scattered all over the place! I'll try to sum them up in one paragraph each. Let's see how it works.

How I am valued

Just yesterday, one of my closest friends and I had a serious talk about this guy with whom I used to spent lots of time together. He told me that if this guy's not right for me, I don't have to worry because - indeed it was the term he used - I am a "valuable woman". Oh, he meant good... even though then he said I'm not ugly and I look cute and I look like a good girl... so I asked him whether my value had been just about looks. He told me it hadn't been so, that I also have a good inner side; but the priority is crystal clear, isn't it? Boys, I thought. Well, I still feel thankful for him because he humored me and he really meant good. He's a sincere friend. There's no doubt about it.

Again, my (not so) pathetic, pathetic working life

I have to admit that I have been unfair and too hard on my new environment. I talked to some of my friends and they, too, don't like their first job (even one has submitted her resignation letter!). Hence, I thought jobs must be simply suck, probably especially first jobs. And meeting up with old friends makes me realize that my world is wide. It is not limited to a certain environment. So now it's up to me: will I let my sickening and maddening working environment ruin MY ENTIRE LIFE? I love my life better than that. Then, I guess it's time to see life with a more positive outlook. YOUR LIFE IS BIGGER AND FAR MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR JOB, REALLY.

We're so living in a stereotypical world and Allegiant (2013) sums it up

"But now I am wondering if I need it anymore, if we ever really need these words, 'Dauntless', 'Erudite', 'Divergent', 'Allegiant', or if we can just be friends or lovers or siblings, defined instead by the choices we make and the love and loyalty that binds us." (Roth: 2013, p. 134).

Now replace the name of the factions and groups with religions or races or ethnicity. You see? The Divergent series are a simplified reality.

Some thoughts on "IMPULSE FOR THE HOMOGENOUS"

Last week I googled collective sadism for my writing project and found this:

The Hatred of Nations

Basically it is about how the "impulse for the homogenous", or the tendency toward homogeneity, drives nations to hatred toward other nations (but do read the article and correct me if I got it wrong). 

I read the article and it was not about the hatred of nations that I understood; instead, it was about how the impulse for the homogenous is probably the core of almost all major problems we face today (and older days).

Name it. Racism, gender inequality, religions intolerance... these are only some of the problems I am sure we are all familiar with. Racism is strongly related to America, be it back in the days or today in its post-racial issues, but it also happened in Indonesia with the alienated Chinese people. Gender inequality, on the other hand, is an issue that is still hotly debated. People have long started to realize the importance of gender equality - proven with the ever-growing feminism - but then there's its counterstrike: meninism. I don't know if the phenomenon is a match for years of feminism growth, but it could be the beginning. Then there's religions intolerance, my favorite subject, which is the most visible major problem in Indonesia. It is tragic really, considering Indonesia was once regarded as a diverse and tolerant country. 

After reading the first article (The Hatred of Nations), I rethought my understanding about these problems and realize that it is likely that they were caused by the same impulse for the homogenous. For racism, it is clear that white people strongly disliked the different skin color. Actually, it wasn't dislike they started with. It started with the thought that the color difference meant different place on Earth, creating some sort of caste system, because there was the arrogance of white supremacy. In Indonesia, on the other hand, the racism against Chinese people wasn't originated from the color difference. It had something to do with political issues and communism, but in the end everything associated with Chinese characteristics (which means including their looks) decided the treatment they received.

Gender inequality was clearly caused by the tendency toward homogeneity because there are judgments toward women: that women are incapable, weak, the second sex. These judgments were made by the other sex, which is obviously male, and since then created an image of what women are. But before we discuss this issue deeper, let's not confuse gender and sex. Putting it simply, sex is male and female (the biological difference; between the one with penis and the one with vagina), and gender is man and woman (the stereotype of male and female's characteristics, that is the masculinity and the femininity). There are people who overgeneralized and associate gender with sex, saying a female must be feminine and a male must be masculine when it actually doesn't always have to be that way. Anyway, the decision that women are the second sex were made by men who thought that their sex was better. Come to think of it, did they really think that being physically stronger and thinking more logically make them the better sex? I don't think of myself as a feminist, but surely I oppose this idea. Back to the topic, I'm just saying that the very own thought that men can judge and put women in their 'place' was probably caused by the very impulse for the homogenous itself. It's basically drawing a bold line between men and women.

And finally we get to the last one: religions intolerance. This, I will based on my conversation with my friend earlier. This is an issue that has long been heard in the world, but only recently did I take notice of it. I think it started in 2012 or so for me. As far as I see, there is no firm ground for religions toleration in Indonesia. Religion has been a sensitive issue for years because it is related to our beliefs. For me, I don't see why people make it a problem because one's belief is related to one's inner self. There is no judge there, there is no standard there, there is no evaluation there. The proof that one has believed correctly is a matter in God's hand and no one but oneself would be there on the Judgment Day (or the Underworld, or the reincarnation circle, or whatever people believe in). Having faith in a religion is like taking an exam for a lifetime. The score comes out in our death. Religion is that simple for me.

Don't fuss and be a prick who preaches right and wrong because you just fucking don't know, but alas, not everyone shares my value. This is so related to that very impulse for the homogenous because some people think their religion is the correct one and thus, any difference is wrong. God, I don't know how many times I should highlight that truth is subjective. People just can't see, can they? This impulse is okay if they just keep it to themselves, yet they have to act on it. They have to exterminate those who are different. If something does not go along with their religious moral compass, they just have to fix it. They do not see that not everyone's moral compasses head the same way. Obviously, this creates a never-ending conflict in Indonesia, especially because some of the majority of Indonesian population are freak fanatics who think they're better than everyone else. Please, like they already have the guarantee of being sent to Heaven. 

Anyway, my point is that the impulse for the homogenous is a scary thing, but it is also a very humane characteristic. I mean, to create these major conflicts, it must be a viral thing. This impulse is not only felt by one or two people; it influences a group of people. No wonder it appears in my Google search for collective sadism. 

* * *

P.S. I just remembered that the Hitler case was also caused by a clear and strong impulse for the homogenous. Really, humans are scary. Even myself scares me.

Some thoughts on MARRIAGE

Marriage

Really. Marriage. If you are in your early-to-mid 20s and you live in Indonesia, marriage is a subject you cannot avoid. It is viral - even more than a gossip on the internet. Marriage used to be a topic only overly nosy aunts and uncles had the guts to ask, but now it is among even peers. Unwilling peers, in my case.

Oh, do not be mistaken. We do want to marry our asses off, but it is something easier said than done and people just cannot see that. It is probably because they don't see what we see and vice versa, or the meaning and goal of marriage is just different for us.

Of course when you talk about marriage, love comes to mind. At least, it is that way for me. Who doesn't want to marry for love? Seeing the love of your life walks to you and hold your hands in his and looks at you with the promise of forever are the beautiful things related with the image of marriage. I want that. I believe most people do. Some people are lucky enough to get the whole package, but others are not that lucky (although, then again, the definition of lucky is relative). I do not want to think that I am unlucky despite the fact that sometimes it is hard to not think that way, but let's just use one perspective of lucky here: girls who marry at their early 20s are lucky - it is better if they marry for love. 

So you see, the focus of marriage in Indonesia for girls at our early 20s has shifted. It is no longer the dream of the perfect one; it is the age deadline. Love is a bonus. When you reach, say, 23, people start approaching you and ask when you'll marry or who's your future husband. And when you say you don't know yet, they start preaching you and telling you that girls should not delay marriage... as if there's not enough deadline in life. 

At first, it was really hard to not get mad when people preach. I had thought it was unfair. Not everyone has the chance to meet the apple of their eyes so soon in life! But that's when it struck me: people keep focusing on the age deadline that they no longer see the beautiful things (and then again, the definition of beautiful is also relative). It led me, by the way, to another clarity: people want different things. 

Some people see marriage as a means to achieve happiness. Probably they want to be united with their true love. Other people see marriage as a safety belt. Marriage provides security, insurance, stability, the guarantee that you won't be alone on your deathbed. Religious people see marriage as a means to avoid sins and adultery - for girls: a handover from parents to husbands. 

Oh, those views are fine. What's not fine is how people force their view on marriage to other people. They mean well, of course, but it kinda hurt my feelings sometimes. To be honest, I used to dream of marrying the perfect guy at 23, but when I reached 21 it all changed. Marriage becomes something so faraway and unimaginable in the near future. I'm 22 and still it's not in my imagined near future. First, because of the nonexistent boyfriend. Second, because there are things I wanna try first. I want to be settled in life before sharing it with anyone for the rest of it.

I think it is safe to say that if I had a boyfriend right now, I probably wouldn't say the same. I probably would be planning the perfect wedding in my mind. But I don't have one, so yeah. But do I regret it? Do I feel sorry for myself? It turns out to be a big no because I find myself chasing other goals. Trust me, I have plenty of it. You're probably thinking that I'm in denial and that's your choice, but really - life is not just about preparing ourselves to marry.

What I feel sorry about is how people think that my kind of girls are unlucky. That we are picky or worse: that we are not picked. I feel sorry about how people think there is a deadline for marriage and those who pass it are pitiable. But I feel sorry the most for people who think us girls live for marriage and that our worth is decided by our marriageability.

A bit enlightened

I've been doing some thinking and I decided that the problem doesn't lie with my job and the huge stack of responsibility; instead, it lies with the people I work with. 

I know that according to the Dalai Lama, 

...and I totally agree! But it feels so hard for me these days that I have to give up this value that I shared with Dalai Lama.

I have been teaching for almost three months now, and it is still too soon to conclude anything, but I really cannot help thinking this way. This, by the way, I realize just recently because I just recently hung out with other people at school with whom I have not really worked together, and suddenly school became enjoyable. 

Of course that is because I don't hang out with them all the time - and that got me thinking perhaps I should just let it be because hanging out with them all the time, which means knowing almost everything about them, can make me stop liking them - but I want to keep it that way for now. I am so exhausted working with some people that I really appreciate an escape. Sad, because I have had no need for any escape back in college. 

Earlier today, my student told me that he did not like the school. He said that kind of thing to me quite often. The first one was at Yogya, when he told me to be straightforward with him and that he was tired with the flowery words people at school used to cover the ugly truth. Then some complains about one of his teachers - how she could be so arrogant and too institutional at times - then this. 

I don't know how many times and in how many different medias I have to say I couldn't agree more.

I don't like the school either for many reasons he and I might share if we dug deeper into this topic. I also found that most of the people here are the type of people I loath the most. You know, the people with sweet mouth and hidden agenda. The two-faced kind of people. My God, I hope they can be just honest and true and humble... because at times, they could be these arrogant snobs who think they know everything. Really, I admire the beauty of not knowing AND wanting to learn - a beauty that is seemingly expired here and now.

Speaking of arrogant snobs, I also found that the teacher my student referred to earlier was arrogant. I have my issues with her myself, so I might have slightly different reasons for this. I do not really want to go further into this, so let's just say that there are times I cannot stand her being a bitch about work. She's not bitching, she's being the bitch. But, yeah, some people are meant to be bitches or else the world will be a boring place filled with only prudes and apathetic people.

You see, this way of thinking is what makes me find myself relate more with him more often than with fellow teachers. And this way of thinking is not acceptable for a person in my position. Although, notice that I only mention him because not all students share the same thought and not all students have this progressive way of thinking. 

However, today, at the end of the conversation with him, his concluding remarks slapped me: "I don't like this school, but I tried to do something to make it better!" which shouldn't have been unexpected because he is seemingly just that kind of person. I used to be that kind of person, too, who does not dwell in misery and despair from a hopeless situation. 

Now, I don't know if what I'm doing now can be considered as doing something to make it better because I am aware that I complain a lot about a lot of things. I've been feeling so unhappy, but I don't remember doing something to make it better. Sure I write a lot lately, and I read a lot, and I keep watching and re-watching movies... and those do make my life a little more bearable. Still, I should be able to do something really significant that can make it truly better. He's been here for almost two years, while I'm in here for barely three months, but I'm years older than him and been through many tough situations, so I hope by the end of the semester, I can find something to do to make it all better.

Dying Dreams

Earlier this week, my friend asked me to review his second short article criticizing a theater performance he watched and was disappointed with. Last night, he told me it has been published and asked me to comment on it. This morning, I read it. 

It was an easily understood article. His arguments were strongly elaborated, his complicated and literally-translated terms were sufficiently explained, the article was introduced and concluded nicely... so overall, I think it was a good article. Surely it was, because it has been published. 

Reading the article, I felt a bit nostalgic because, first, criticizing art (movies, books, etc) was what we did in college and it has been so long since I last did it seriously. Second, it was because my friend used the theory I had used as a tool in my thesis. That is, the adaptation theory by Linda Hutcheon. But that doesn't matter.

I also felt proud for him because he wrote something worth reading and even got it published. As far as I know, he hadn't wanted to be a writer or journalist, so I could only think that getting published was probably not his aim; getting people to know how he think about the play is. Hence, I was happy for him.

However, and this is so low of me, I feel kinda sad. I had been the one who wanted to be journalist and here I am, stuck with the job I hadn't wanted the most. And I envy him because he used everything he learned at college - not the grammar part, because he wrote in Bahasa - and got where he is right now. He looks like everything I want to be; everything I had dreamed of - not just a journalist, but also a critical one. 

Considering what I have been doing up to now, I am nowhere near my dream of becoming a journalist. Nevermind the critical one. This got me questioning: is my dream dying now? Am I now too occupied with my job? I can't help thinking that way, because working as a full-timer really occupies my life, but no. That is not the problem. 

To be completely honest, back when I didn't have a job (and was frantically looking for one), I didn't even think much of being a journalist. I hadn't applied for a journalist position - I had applied for editor or translator position because those were what I liked best. Even up till now. What's more, I hadn't tried to write anything critical and post it on some media. I hadn't used everything that matters that I had learned in college to create anything worth considering. During my vacant period, I had only been looking for a secure job. Something to guarantee a constant income so I can live from month to month.

It doesn't mean I was wrong. Being jobless for six months could really turn your head spinning, and we, the fresh graduates, were well-informed that not having a job means being a burden for your family, your country, and your own. We knew that we could no longer burden our family; we have been funded for 12 years of school, if not 16 years in total including higher institution. But most of all, we longed for that bit of independence. For standing on our own feet, paying by ourselves for everything, being able to treat the family that has been there for us. For starting from scratch by ourselves and creating our own rules for our little world. Having a job is the first step for all that.

So, yeah, probably my dream to become a journalist is dying. Has been dying for a while now. I exchanged it with the dream of being independent. So I got what I wanted. It's just that after three months and not liking what I do, I'm sorry for not trying more things before settling. Being a critical journalist, though could be a permanent job, needs more trial-and-errors. If not from applying directly to the media, it can start with what my friend just did. 

Still, trying to look at things with positive outlook, what I'm doing can be seen as a trial-and-error. I am trying this out and so far the end results are errors, but that's okay because then I know this is not for me. Meanwhile, I can continue pursuing my other dream: to be a writer. Not doing what I like gives me enough time and will to do what I like best. That is, writing. And writing, especially writing fiction, has flexible hours. 

Okay, some of my dreams are dying (or frozen, as I prefer to think it can be relived someday), but there are certain dreams whose pursuit means sacrificing other dreams. Nothing's wrong with that as long as you are fully conscious when you make your choices and you are aware that each choice has consequences.

The Truth Recently

They say what matters is not the way people feel about you; instead, it's how they make you feel about yourself. And I am so unhappy right now that I know this whole situation might be really wrong for me.

I have been complaining since almost the very start... had thought it would pass but eventually it became more and more serious. I'm disgusted with myself and I feel so low and in a way I feel trapped. School is clearly not the right institution for me. When I was a student, I had hated it. When I am a teacher, I still hate it very much the same. I think and think and wander if I'm just exaggerating. I had thought it was perhaps because I wasn't ready for work. Had believed it was perhaps because I was still caught up in the utopia of college's lifestyle and way of thinking. Maybe it was.

But it hasn't stopped.

I hate the bureaucracy. I hate the formalities. I hate the rules. I hate the limitations. I hate that the students' way of thinking needs to be shaped. I hate the complains. I hate the nagging. I hate the never ending expectations. I hate the standards I have to fulfill. I hate that teachers are responsible for the students' scores. I hate that parents intervene with the way education is carried out. On top of it all, I hate myself because I feel this way. It makes me sick.

I hate it when I hate the world around me. It makes me feel pathetic and despicable. I hate school and I am incapable of being a teacher, and I hate it when I feel incapable. It makes me feel unworthy. And because this cycle of hatred has finally reached this level, it makes me realize school is just not for me. 

My problem doesn't lie with the students. Come on, they're students. They're young and only half-exposed to the world. Some are pains in the ass, some others are all sugar, while some others just so-and-so. It's normal. The core problem is that I am not a teacher at heart. Looking at those young people, I don't have the desire to teach them ABC or telling right from wrong; instead, I desire to befriend them or simply neglect the problematic ones. I desire to talk to them about their lives. About their dreams. I desire to be their friend. And that's neither correct nor can happen.

Being a teacher, I am told, means there's a certain gap you have to establish so that students respect you. There are formalities you need to assign to the class so that students know their place. You can behave the way you want outside classrooms, but there is a set of rules inside. I can't separate the two.

I have long known and felt that there are better things beyond formalities. That respect has nothing to do with the way you address or are addressed. That gap doesn't mean people know their place - sometimes it just means they don't want to have anything to do with you, and other times it just means that they drive further away from you.

The same person who told me all the perks of being formal doesn't even gain the students' respect. How ironic. But then again, school has always been a formal institution. My first mistake was waltzing back in.

Speaking of formalities, I also have a problem with the hierarchy here. Fuck hierarchy, really. And fuck conflicts of interests. I want to elaborate more, but that can wait. I need to organize my thoughts better so it won't come out as simply an outburst.

Review: Come on, Cinderella.

When I heard that there is a live action remake of Disney's Cinderella, I had hoped for a plot twist like they did with Maleficent. But, alas, what I got was a two-hours of beautiful dresses and a tale of a girl who was too kind for her own good.

Perhaps this was because I'm a skeptic and I don't believe pure kindness can get you anywhere at all. There's a fine line between kind and stupid, and Ella was more to the stupid side. She couldn't stand up for herself, she couldn't say no, she couldn't protect the house she kept saying she loved for her mother and father... so what did she actually do for good? She waited for the right prince to come and sweep her off her feet. Only then was she able to chin up and waltz out of the house. 

There was an additional scene where Ella and the Prince met in the forest for the first time. I don't know if it was meant to show that the Prince fell for Ella's natural beauty/charming wit in contrast with the original version where they met for the first time at the ballroom with Cinderella wrapped in her all princessy dress, still...

Well said, Elsa! You see, with Frozen and Maleficent, I thought Disney had made a change of direction and is heading to a more women-empowering approach for their movies. However, because of this too high of an expectation, I am disappointed with how Cinderella turned out to be. The additional scene changed next to nothing, especially because her 'wit' was not so much of a wit. "Just because it's what's done, it doesn't mean it should be done" -  really? Sounded like simply quoting from another source. (Okay, maybe I'm too harsh. I know it was supposed to refer to the tradition of princes marrying princesses because in the end, Kit the Prince disobeyed the tradition and married Ella the commoner). 

Speaking of wit (and advice), the "Have courage and be kind" advice from Ella's mother seemed to be ignored by Ella in most of her life because simply, none of her action after her father died represented courage and kindness. She couldn't say no, so it wasn't kindness. She was okay being moved to the attic, so it wasn't courage. She remained quiet while being treated less than what she deserved so it wasn't a form of kindness - it was stupidity and cowardice. The only time she was able to say no to her stepmother was when the Prince came to her house and officially asked for her to see him.

I had expected too much... Part of me had expected to see a breathtaking and mind-shaking retelling like the one Intan Paramaditha did in Perempuan Buta Tanpa Ibu Jari. Another part of me had expected more elaboration on the step-family's characters, but even that they didn't do. However, I couldn't blame Disney because Cinderella is one of the most famous classic story, and despite the truth that she is no princess, the truest princess with all the magic and transformation.

Probably even Disney doesn't have the heart to ruin Cinderella's magically happy ending for their audience.

Courtesy of images: Google

The Conversationists

"My idea of good company, Mr. Eliot, is the company of clever, well-informed people who have a great deal of conversation; that is what I call good company." - Persuasion, Jane Austen.

Consider it an attempt at being disgustingly sentimental. Those in the picture are bound to mock me if they read this. They will laugh and tease me because that's what they do. I love them anyway.

Unlike how it seems, it is hard to put in words the overwhelming happiness of spending four years in college and ending up together. Maybe it is hard because I have no other motive in writing this except that I miss them a lot these days and I want to relive those days with them when our time seemed to stop. Usually one writes more easily if one has concrete objective.

There are so many things I want to talk to you about them. I had thought that it would be best to start with the things and moments that tie us up, but it seems irrelevant now. It was probably IKMI and our fondness of gossips that brought us together. And maybe our nonexistent curfew did, too. We seemed to have always been available for staying the night at campus' neighborhood (if not sleeping over!).

Talking of the way they have changed me would also have no point because it would be take too much explanation, so probably I'll just talk about the things I love doing with them.

As a chatterbox, I love conversations. Not just conversations, but deep talks. I believe conversations lead me to knowing people better - and not just about their characters, but also about their ideas and visions about practically anything in the world. And I can always count on these people to satisfy my thirst for conversation. In fact, that is the sole reason I pick that quote from Persuasion to put under the picture. They really are good company. At one point or another, there was always a time when each and every one of us got involved in an insightful conversation.

Oh, we did other things beside talking. We went on trips together. But it always seemed to me that engaging ourselves in conversations is what we do best. Talks with them could take hours, sometimes half a day. And we seemed to talk best after midnight. I don't know if it was because our minds were no longer completely sober and were overused, but we seemed to say better things and think more interesting thoughts from midnight till dawn. We were night owls. We talked about personal stuff (usually romance with the girls, and gossips with both genders) as starter, then we moved on to heavier subjects (by which I mean college stuff such as the study of feminism, gender, psychoanalysis, existentialism, movie critics - basically ideas that we can highly relate to our life and surroundings - and also religion: the difference between the practice and the spirituality).

Talks with them were not always good. We have had our share of bitter discussions and disheartening conversations. It was probably because we were forthright and painfully critical people; it was as if we had no filter of what to say. Some of the wounds left scars in our hearts or awful memories we can't get rid of. But that's sort of okay by me now. That was how I grew up with them. The talks were always challenging and consoling simultaneously. And I sort of learned that that was the way we love and support each other because we stay throughout even the most painful conversation.

For me, 'us' used to be forever. Like time was halted and we would see no end to living like then. At least I felt that way. Their presence did not only lift my spirit; they made me high-spirited all the time. I was boundless and strong in mind and body. And life was full of joy and really "all my friends are nice and gay!" and the image of us ending was nowhere to be seen.

But graduation made way, and eventually we had to stop being in the same place. The talkers can talk neither as often as they did, nor can they give any more critical remarks as frank. Believe me, place and frequency of meeting matter. Some things have to change in order to preserve this valued friendship. And so I miss them. How nice would it be if we are given a night to get together again soon!

A girl caught a bus to a certain post office in the neighborhood. She jumped off when the bus passed the post office and waved her hand to someone. It was her friend, waiting by the rustic gate of the old post office. 

"He gave you something," her friend said. The girl, in overwhelming sadness and confusion, went straight into the post office, followed by her friend, to pick up the package he had left for her. 

The package was sheets of papers, and it was not addressed to her, though there was a note addressed to her attached on the front. "Give this to S," the note said. After a whole day of confusion, such thing was no longer questionable - no longer needed questioning! Her friend was as clueless as she, so the only thing she could do was finding S. 

She walked and walked and in her way, thinking of how they hadn't talked for so long and wondered why he went this length of speaking to her through notes on package. At that time, it had already been two years since their last casual night out. Since the last time they were friends...

The girl's confusion was not something she only had for that day. She had felt it for the two years everything changed between them. They had stopped going out for talks and dinners, and meeting just the two of them. She had loved it; especially the long conversations they had every so often. She had confided in him, and perhaps depended on him without realizing, and she had lost a part in her when all that stopped. 

She wondered why he addressed the package to S when he wasn't supposed to know him.

Her feet brought her to S in no moment at all. Perhaps he knows the answer, she thought, and before handing the package, look up to his face. S stared at her as if she was pathetic, which she probably was anyway, and she hated it. She hated him because the package was addressed to him instead of her. 

"Why?" she barked. She handed the package but wouldn't let go before he answered her. S shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know," he said quietly, aware of the fact that she was shaken. S - and everybody else - was no stranger to the story of this girl and her guy. 

"Why is this package addressed to you? What is inside?" she begged. She had missed him for years and this was what she got. A note on a package to someone else.

S ripped the package for her. Inside was notes on some college lessons. Sketches she was not familiar with. She didn't understand the significance of it at all. She didn't even understand why he gave it to S. Darn, she didn't even know he studied all of those seemingly difficult graphics! 

"The package only says this is inherited to me," S answered. 

The girl knew S might not know the answer but she just had to ask the question. "Why did he stop talking to me? Why did we stop meeting up?" S shook his head in desperation as grave as hers. 

"Why did he stop being my friend?"

The girl was not sobbing, but it felt like the hollow in her heart choked her. She wanted to know if he had left because he had been afraid she wanted more. She did think they could be more, once, but definitely not if it meant she had to lose his friendship! Even the thought was unbearable for her wounded soul. She had lost two years of his friendship and she felt terribly sorry for everything. She missed him. 

Faith in Humanity: Restored!

1) I have realized for quite some time that I didn't trust human in general. I didn't trust their kindness; I trusted their hidden agenda. I didn't trust people acting purely out of good will and generally I didn't think kindhearted people exist. I trusted that people are originally suspicious, selfish creatures. 

 2) It is kinda hard to live as a Muslim in the midst of all prejudices against us. The social experiment below was conducted to combat Islamophobia in the West, but I think it is applicable to the situation here in Indonesia where Muslims are prejudiced as being superficial, violent, aggressive, judgmental and negatively dominant (which, sadly, are sometimes proven true by some idiotic actions conducted by idiotic agents).

Social Experiment to Combat Islamophobia

Click the link! This experiment encouraged me to believe that kindness do exist. Humans still care about other humans. Humans are still willing to go some distance and break some wall and hug a stranger to show they trust him. Humans are still willing to offer their trust to those who prejudiced them - and that's my homework.

My Keepers

I was just diagnosed of having one of those scary-named illnesses yesterday. It is not something that can be cured with just a full day of sleeping in and it kinda freaked me out the first time I heard the diagnosis. But it is also not something that I am condemned to have for a lifetime or that threatened my life. I won't go into further detail about it. Besides, it turns out many people have had it before me and they are perfectly cured by now, so I won't worry too much. It's just a hormonal problem.

However, scary names are meant to be scary and when I told one of my friends about it, she overreacted a bit and told other friends in our circle. It had pissed me off a little because I don't like too many people knowing about it because if they freak out, they freak me out, too. And I hate freaking out because that makes me feel incapable and weak. I like to think of myself as the protective one; the capable one in charge of worrying - not someone to be worried about!

My mother told me people worry because they love me. It is an opinion I have a hard time accepting. Not that I don't understand... in fact, I worry about people around me because I do care. It's just that I am not used to being the one about whom people need to worry. I hate it so much that I came down to reflecting: am I shutting people out? Am I putting distance to our friendship?

Anyhow, some of my friends paid a visit earlier today.

It was not so much of a hyper-entertaining meeting we usually have, probably because my focus wasn't exactly in place, but we had a quite nice time. I remember laughing a lot to the old sarcastic and cynical jokes, to the goofy way of speaking, and even to the most boring jokes. By the time they all went home I found myself singing out loud, and generally my spirit was lifted. 

Only then that I realized I might have not really seen what this friendship is about: that it is still so warm and so tight, that it is losing if I keep not seeing it, and that it means so much to me.

I still hate too many people knowing about my sickness, mostly because I hate feeling weak and I hate the uninvited attention, but there's a part of me that now thinks I have to open up and accept the way they love me. They went so far to my house for just a visit to someone who barely has to lie still under the blanket - surely no matter how much I hate it, I would be sorry to have them ignore me! What else could someone ask for but a friend - more, friends! - who is willing to go miles just to see you? 

They are precious friends. They're keepers. 

You, these days

You are the representation of easier times.
You are the swing set at the backyard of my dream house.
You are the romcoms on Saturday nights.
You are the city skylights decorating the skyscrapers.
- and this scent of yours,
Reminds me of the passenger seat on which I used to stare at you,
While you were listening to my endless monologue,
Saying you're not getting bored no matter how many times I asked.

You are every little thing contradictorily beautiful in this chaotic universe;
the one flower irritating and treasured by the Little Prince,
the one flower whose disappearance turns stars dead and sky dark.
- and this scent of yours,
Reminds me of the cigarettes you chain-smoked,
Of the songs you cut once you were bored,
While always, you were listening to my endless monologue.

And of all the bridges I'm burning, you're the one I wish to keep.

My Top 5 Books in 2014

As a true logophile and bibliophile at heart, I have a Goodreads account where I keep track of all the great books I have read. I think it is nice for Goodreads to create a list of the books I have read in 2014. You can see it if you click this link 

My Year in Books

and out of the list, I decided to make a list of my own Top 5 Books. I like them all almost equally, so there is no need to put numbers on them. Here it is...

Supernova: Partikel (2012)

 

My friend, Nirma, recommended Supernova Series by Dee Lestari nearing the end of last year. I have read four of them (and am about to read the fifth one), but this one was by far the most mind-blowing. Can you imagine a sturdy rock shattered? Or perhaps an ice river broken? I have never seen ice river breaks, but it was what I had in mind when I read Partikel. I have mentioned how I question the superficiality of Islamic ritual practice in Indonesia and how I am interested in religion/spiritual issues more than I care to admit; well, this book was the representation of all the questions I have. The shattered sturdy rock or the broken ice river was the only surface left where I could stand. I was shaken after I read Partikel. I am not saying the book's kafir, no. In fact, Dee was so brilliant that she could shake me by simply presenting the common dialogue of religion in Indonesia. Of course, my favorite part was the dialogue between Zarah and Abah. That goes without saying. This book has so big an impact on me that I now find the meanings of the Koran verses touch my heart more. I am back at zero level of learning Islam. A good start because it is only at zero level that we can learn more openly. On the other hand, Partikel is also great in terms of the sci-fi theme that strongly influenced the plot. I went through Partikel the same way I went through the movie Interstellar (2014) - only instead of gravity, Partikel has fungi. (By the way, I discussed Interstellar with some friends and coming down to amateurishly theorize that it somehow criticizes the existence of God; well, I kinda felt the same way about Partikel, although that doesn't have to always be the case).

Supernova: Akar (2002)

Akar is another book from the Supernova Series that amazed me. It was also about the religious stuff that interested me the most, but the way Dee presented it was different from the way she did in Partikel. In Akar, she made it feel so peaceful and fulfilling. It was almost as if I was Bodhi. When Bodhi was doubtful, I was doubtful. The questions I asked unanswered; Bodhi has them, too. I was especially attracted to the part where Bodhi thought a converted person must be more knowledgeable and faithful compared to the people who take religion for granted since they are born. I am not saying that we should doubt people who take one religion as their belief just because they were born under it; I'm just saying maybe not all of us truly understand the spiritual part of a religious belief because we take it as a given. After all, we were not given a choice. Converting was never considered an option; converting is judged as a betrayal to the initial religion - a betrayal to the initial group.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (1999)

The first time I know about The Perks of Being a Wallflower was from the movie. You know, the one with Logan Lerman and Emma Watson. After watching the movie, I knew right away that I have to read the book in order to find the in-depth explanation of many things! Without any means to belittle the movie - I like the movie a lot - I still think that it left too many things hanging. That's why I grabbed my copy of the book and satisfied my need of Charlie's thorough story. The narration is done quite nicely. It's almost like The Princess' Diary, but with more twisted plot. A wallflower is an introverted person; one that is seemingly shy, and I didn't really get it the first time I watched the movie because Charlie there seemed to almost be like any other main character - bullied, socially awkward, a hero-to-be. However, the book showed me how it is to be a wallflower. I only realized it halfway through the end that after pages, the only thing I know was about his friends instead of him. Charlie was an incredibly selfless character, almost as if he's there only to observe the life around him. Believe me, you wouldn't not love Charlie after you finished this book. Way to go, Chbosky!

The Catcher in the Rye (1951)

A classic. You should've known it from the published year.
I couldn't quite comprehend the meaning of this whole book when I first read it (and I have to admit, even until now there are still parts I don't understand), but I always find my mind wanders to it. Salinger presented his work in a rather different way than other writers whose works I have read. I waited and waited for Holden Caufield to become someone who is enlightened, or someone who goes through a life-changing journey, or someone great at the end of the story; but after 100 pages Caufield was still the same whiny and somewhat jerk-y lad. You don't say, The Catcher in the Rye became a tiring book for me, for I see no use of reading it. It did not move me. But later, as my mind kept finding its way back to this book, I realize that this book has left a really strong impression. It even inspired the birth of Literature Slaves - a chain story blog I've been working on with a friend. I started to see how Salinger was a great writer; he managed to not only tell Caufield's bad weekend, but also bring us along with every step and encounter. Holden Caufield was a depressed teenager whose depression is contagious to his reader or whose depression would only be understood by someone as depressed as he. I am planning to reread it sometime soon when I am depressed.



The Little Prince (1943)

 

Originally titled Le Petit Prince, this Antoine De Saint-Exupery's book is also a classic worth read by both adults and children. For children, this book will be a good teacher of humanity; whereas for adults, this book can have multiple meanings. Through its simple and naked words, The Little Prince gave birth to many, many beautiful and symbolically straightforward quotes about the truth of humanity and the essence of life. This is one of the evergreen books that mesmerizes people of all ages... and make us remember the inner child we have long forgotten, as well as the beautiful world within which the child lives.