Thursday, May 18, 2017

The White Sun

Never has it occur to my mind that someone would categorize my writing as 'suspense', or somewhere near that. When I asked one years ago, this writer told me that what I had in them were casually, mistakes amateur writers has taken over and over again: less detailed,wrong reasoning, incomprehensible logic... nevertheless I keep writing this blog, which I feel fun, and considering that Stephen King himself said that as a writer, one should write minimum 6000 sentences a day, well... even as amateur writer I still have this lack of exercise.

Seeing the pond in the side of Jardin du Luxembourg yesterday, my mind flew towards the scene in the movie Love Actually, where the character Colin Firth had to help his maid recollecting the blown away copies of his manuscript. The scene also has the pond. It has the same color with the one I saw yesterday, the water.

Both of us, if I could humbly say myself as one, too--- we are writers. The writers who shared the once same scenery they find themselves in.  Same color of water... And so did Virginia Woolf as what had been depicted by Nicole Kidman in Virginia Woolf; she finally drowned herself in that serene flowing, dark green water.

It's funny how different Monet saw the water, I think. He painted  all in black at first, maybe, as the shade of the water in the background of those water lilies also feels like deep greyish underneath the upper layers. I've seen somebody painting some polar bears in realistic features; first he covered all the bears in black, before then patiently, drew and layered them with their furs that were caressed one by one by his hand and brush . People will say that the bears look like they've been photographed before, while it was not. This technique has been applied before by Leonardo da Vinci,for example when he painted Monalisa. Turns out that it could give such a depth of shadows and real-impression.

There was a time, though,before that someone commented on my writing and said that it was suspense-like.

I was seventeen, oh well, yeah, almost. I found myself seated in this room, more than 12000 km away from my home in Bandung. This room was almost empty, and slightly small. There were only a table and a couch, but the girls with whom I spend my next 3 weeks in this teenage camp, loves to throw at least 3 of themselves on the couch, while giggling, sipping tea, and having snacks. On the table, sometimes one put some books there, their evening meals, their after laundry clothes... this room is just a small room and each floor in this dormitory has it. If we go outside it, we can see corridors and rows of bedrooms. My roommate was Hiroko, a sweet Japanese girl who took my photograph in mukena, of course she asked politely to do so.

But this time, beside me was Mbak Mudhi, a reporter from a girl magazine from Indonesia in charge to report the ongoing of this summer-3-weeks-camp that is meant to introduce us to the so-called United States' common culture and tradition, before then the Exchange Program Committee will be sending us to fly to each of our host families. Me, I was scheduled to spend one year with this family in Oklahoma.

"So, for you, you will still hold those Indonesian values with you, right?" Mbak Mudhi asked me. I find she was observant, like how journalists should be, and that time, I was hesitated to answer. I tried to smile and be relaxed, as Mbak Mudhi was I thought to be a charming friend and even with such a comforting friend, I was still this awkward girl in every situation.

"Well..." I just vaguely nodded.

If only I could explain what had been going on my mind properly. All this culture things, and new places! I was so desperately excited and curious to explore. I remembered my conversation with fellow mate from Indonesia, Ratna,aboard the plane when we get there and okay... I admit it was far from the topic about society and cultural interest, as we chat about first-grade high school physics topics. Now I say what that girl, the 16-year-old-me, was trying to do; to make a statement: she simply loves science.

What she didn't realize that time: she thought that science is the core of all culture. Science advancement will give birth to a new culture and society, it will tear down what it thinks obsolete, and it will categorize. When will it be exhausted?

...That time  when she was barely 17, nope, it didn't feel that science was exhausted.

And that time, the 16-year old girl  also have not thought about the bigger pictures that she could potentially think.

Thursday, February 02, 2017

Saat Hari Itu Datang

Aku akan mengamini
Di Stockholm,

Dan akan kusemai padang bunga
Yang coraknya membentuk pita selamat datang

Tanda persahabatan

Kepada para sahabat, teman, kenalan, bekas, dan bakal anak panah
menghunus ke dada

Saat hari itu datang

Dunia akan tersenyum lembut

Pesta itu akan digelar  santun
Tanpa anggur
Yang ada hanyalah

Musikku, alunan piano lembut dan


yang mendayu

Monday, May 09, 2016

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Monday, March 07, 2016

The Dyers of The Hearts of Platina, Silver, and Bronze

When she started the mission along with Aria, Sinbad never knew that this was how it felt to be incompetent, dull, and without the helps of our parents. Sometimes she feels envious towards her very comrade (since they assign each other's lives on the safety raft together, which seemed to be deliberate-incidentally matched by The Great Inventor-GIself), since what she saw in her heads were rather a totally different dreams compared to hers. If you please, Aria's head is colorful; she saw the winds as pink shades of the sun's part ray of light, where she could take advantage technologies merely as tools and marketing games, along with all of its overdue romance in Vivaldi's four season symphony.

... While on the other head, Sinbad chose the different roles, the roles she could not imagine to live without: the sacredness of information, numbers---if you please--- numbers are behaving as humans, full of will and cunningness, rage, and sometimes, reluctance... to be discovered. Universe shall remain mysterious, according to Sinbad, with a little bit of leaking here and there, just to console one mind's about some (ridiculous) persistence of discovering it.

Let the narrator tell you what these two girls are doing. This journey that we call our quest took place inside the world called The Opylus Universe, where in our casual human being customs, Aria and Sinbad are taking their second level of High School. Aria and Sinbad come from the Land of Antaranusa, where their tradition in studying comprises of :

1. The journey with boats towards their choices of academic subjects;
Example of Case : Sinbad, she wants to study mathematics, physics, and sufisms; therefore, because the Land of Antaranusa has collaboration with The Cape of Marrakech in overall general teaching, Sinbad (and automatically, the entire second level high school students whose age minimum 58 years old in human being's metric age system)would have to sail to the cape and then lives inside the ashramas (dormitories) for students there. Because her choice of subjects are different to Aria's, she may or may not live inside the same dormitory.

2. Once arrive at The Cape, they will directly, bythemselves, these students, go towards each of their teacher of subjects' offices and study there. Usually, each teacher will handle about 30-50 students (well you see--- The Land of Antaranusa is rather vast, if not very--- hence they produce many, the narrator means to say it, many students).

(3. The narrator shall complete the other tradition when he remembers it better, later) Oh yeah, the dormitories are separated for boys and girls.

Well. As what we expect to usually happen with large numbers, you know, in this case, large numbers of students, we are also talking about large expenses (either from and to the body of education itself). The narrator would take an example, the boat that we are embarking on in this very story.

Sinbad and Aria, they don't have their family come from those people with very money. This means a gigantic boat, which in their case, also home (for this journey will end in 3 months) to some other 50 students, about 12 teachers who are also the maitres-du-bateau, 

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Saturday, January 09, 2016

Fenomena Fransoa 'L'Enfant Terrible' di Indonesia

Bagaimana jika memang apa yang dilakukan Fransoa, lebih dari sekedar
menyemarakkan dunia entertainment Indonesia di tahun 2015 saat seseorang mulai melihatnya?
Kita dapat mengganti seseorang menjadi minimal 500.000 viewers yang melihatnya dari
Youtube saja.
Fransoa si anak nakal, disebut nakal karena dia, yang sedang berjalan-jalan dengan kostum Prancisnya dan terlihat begitu mirip dengan Cedric Villani dari jauh itu, mengamati
(menikmati) pemandangan di kampung di Indonesia ini , I can imagine that he would have
been thinking in French first, dan baru kemudian menuangkannya dalam Bahasa Indonesia.

Dalam versi orang Indonesia, keingintahuan anak ini, atau bagaimana dia begitu terpukaunya dengan pemandangan di lingkungan sekitarnya, diterjemahkan sebagai suatu tindakan yang ‘nakal’.
Seperti apa yang pernah terlintas di benak penulis saat mulai berinteraksi dengan kebudayaan Prancis (mempelajari bahasanya, tinggal di dalamnya, dan berinteraksi dengan penduduknya), maka di sinilah kiranya perbedaan habit itu terpampang, sebagai contoh, yang muncul di antara bagaimana penulis, yang notabene (pernah) terbiasa dengan lingkungan keindonesiaan, menggambarkan bagaimana dia melihat sebuah objek di hadapannya. Misalnya,
pemandangan hamparan padang rumput di Payakumbuh.
Penulis, jika dia sedang berpikir dalam Bahasa Indonesia, bisa dengan spontan memainkan saluangnya mungkin, sambil bertasbih menyebut nama Tuhannya--- semuanya dalam Bahasa Indonesia.
Namun penulis dapat membayangkannya saat berusaha mengkomunikasikan apa yang
dilihatnya dalam bahasa Prancis, entah karena keterbatasan kosa kata yang ada atau
bagaimana biasanya penulis mendengar

Bahasa Prancis mengkomunikasikannya, dia akan dengan sontak menggambarkan
bagaimana lekuk rumput di padang rumput itu, bagaimana warnanya, bagaimana langit di atasnya, bagaimana terasa udaranya, berapa banyak sapi yang dia lihat...
Dan ketika penulis dengan dua buah bahasa itu menuangkannya dalam sebuah puisi, atau
sebuah lagu, atau suatu karya apa pun itu tentang padang rumput itu, dalam masing-masing bahasa, kita bisa mengingatnya bahwa kedua cara pandang tersebut dimiliki oleh sebanyak
orang yang berbahasa masing-masing itu pula.
Demikianlah kita melihat bagaimana warna-warna dalam suatu bola kebudayaan dan pada akhirnya, bola peradaban, terbentuk.