29.4.16

Kisah Kota

KOTA ini bercerita sambil membisu
dengan latar belakang adzan maghrib
membungkus cahaya dan penerangan
tepi jalan bau pesing dan kontaminasi polusi

Disitu kita bertegur sapa
saat waktu berjalan mundur
Oh, sungguh membosankan
untuk berkelakar kosong
di ruangan dan mulut pintu penuh asap

Aku tak lagi jauh
dan bagaikan tertanam
dikacaukan preferensi
dan sudut pikiran supranatural

Saat spasi dalam kejadian
ikut berhenti dan jatuh cinta
kota ini bercerita dengan membisu
hiruk pikuk latar belakang hilang
saat aku tekan tombol mute

-

saat gelisah dan menambahkan melodi bagi kata-kata
listen below:

15.3.16

Fragment

Berdiri berdansa dalam jahitan japon* rumahan
sekali berdiri serentakan
rencana tinggal teman lain
berbicara dan berskandal dan tertawa
malam larut tabur bunga
dalam dentuman alunan dentang

malam semakin larut

Jadi ceritanya hari ini saya mengingat satu-dua cerita penggalan mengenai almarhumah nenek saya. Beliau yang telah pergi hampir 4 tahun yang lalu memang sosok yang suka bercerita tentang masa mudanya. Walaupun banyak lupa tentang hal yang terjadi beberapa jam yang lalu, lupa sudah makan atau belum, lupa saya ini cucu nya yang bernama siapa, oma tidak pernah melupakan cerita masa mudanya. Oma selalu berkata bercerita tentang waktu lampau sambil tertawa sampai terkikik. Matanya yang mulai berwarna mengabu terlihat berbinar berlapis tipis kaca air. Mungkin itu yang membuat hal pertama yang saya lakukan saat sampai dirumah adalah masuk ke kamar oma, berlutut atau duduk di tepi springbed nya dan bertanya 'Apa kabar Oma hari ini?' 'Oma ceritain lagi soal..'
lalu beliau mulai bertutur tentang cerita masa mudanya.

dan rasanya waktu berhenti

Oma saya lahir di tahun 30an yang telah kita ketahui adalah lini waktu perjuangan kemerdekaan. Masih dalam situasi pendudukan kolonial. Beliau lahir dan menghabiskan masa muda di pulau Sangir, Sulawesi Utara. Pada malam ini khususnya saya teringat salah satu episode cerita oma mengenai acara berdansanya saat muda dulu. Ia bercerita tentang bagaimana dulu ia dan beberapa temannya seringkali mendapat undangan untuk berdansa disalah satu rumah keluarga Belanda.
Bahkan sejak tahun 50an pun eksklusifitas dalam bergaul pun sudah muncul. Apalagi di grup wanita-wanita menyeramkan (menurut saya) wanita-wanita yang cantik-cantik disuatu daerah akan diundang acara berdansa ini, dan konon cerita oma, yang tidak mendapat undangan artinya tergolong kurang cantik. Dan yang diundang akan merasa lebih cantik dari yang lain dan menertawakan yang lain (eksklusifitas yang agak narsis) 
'Oma ih jahat, kok gitu' satu-dua respon saya sambil tertawa kecil.
Lebih lanjut di arena dansa yang mulai tervisualisasi samar-samar dalam benak saya, oma juga bercerita bahwa beberapa laki-laki bujang akan ikut hadir dalam pesta itu. Saya membayangkan suasana tahun 50an, rambut bergelombang pendek, gaun potongan A-line tanpa lengan, asap cerutu mengebul, kalung mutiara, sapu tangan menutup mulut gadis yang tertawa. Begitu kira-kira gambaran saya. Lalu bujang-bujang ini, ada yang oke ada pula yang kurang oke, penilaian yang entah berbasis apa.. Kelompok wanita cantik ini akan mempermainkan laki-laki yang kurang tampan sehingga sampai pada akhirnya mereka tidak berdansa dengan salah satu dari mereka. (eksklusifitas yang agak kejam)
Oma saya biasa bertutur dalam dialek khas sulawesi
'deng oma pe tamang, torang pigi sama-sama..'
sedikit banyak saya mengerti percakapan dengan dialek seperti ini walau kepayahan kalau harus meniru berbicara seperti itu.
Banyak episode lain yang pernah diceritakan beliau pada malam hari saat saya pulang, kadang sambil melewati makan siang bersama dikamar dengan pintu terbuka. Kadang pukul 2 menuju setengah 3 saat insomnia menyerang oma dan saya. Semua kisah terdengar menarik, diceritakan dalam satu tarikan nafas saking bersemangat, diceritakan berulang-ulang. Beberapa saya mulai lupa namun beberapa sangat membekas.
Rasanya ingin saya ceritakan kepada siapapun lawan obrolan saya, rasanya mau saya tulis ulang dengan tulisan tangan, kadang ingin saya tambahkan melodi agar jadi sebuah lagu penuh romantika masa lampau. Atau dilukis dengan cat air? memori yang rasanya mau saya dekap erat.

Ah.mungkin saya hanya sedang rindu pada oma malam ini..
:)

*gaun, baju terusan

12.3.16

Drizzle


Saya pernah dengar kalimat  'setiap penulis harus pernah setidaknya sekali menulis tentang hujan' yang artinya setiap orang harus mampu setidaknya sekali menulis tentang hujan.

Bulan- bulan ini musim hujan. tanah dan pohon terguyur basah sering kali, nah karena itu saya mau mulai. Saat ini waktu menunjukan pukul sembilan pagi, dan cuaca cerah. Karena terlalu cerah saya jadi rindu sama hujan. Bagus kan, menulis tentang sesuatu yang dirindukan, banyak 'kenapa' yang bisa diutarakan.

Menurut saya hujan itu dramatis. se- dramatis piring mahal yang tiba- tiba pecah berkeping- keping. Jadi setiap kejadian dramatis seharusnya di latar- belakangi dengan hujan. Jatuh cinta, patah hati, bukannya hal- hal seperti ini pantasnya di lengkapi dengan suara hujan? gerimis sejuk buat yang sedang jatuh cinta, dan sedikit deras dan gelap buat yang patah hati. Atau mungkin yang berpetir sekalian buat yang patah hatinya sampai niat bunuh diri. haha.

Yang paling lucu adalah setiap orang pada dasar lubuk hatinya, keberadaan alam bawah sadarnya, ingin menjadi dramatis. Dramatis setiap kejadian hidupnya atau dengan kata lain menjadikan dramatis kejadian hidupnya. Kebutuhan akan sesuatu yang penting dan yang berbeda, yang tidak biasa, yang berlebihan bahkan yang menyakitkan adalah poin merasakan kehidupan. Karena itu kursi selalu penuh terisi pada pemutaran twilight atau harry potter atau paket box office lainnya.

Apa yang menarik dari sekumpulan orang dengan paras hampir sempurna merangkai cerita mereka sendiri? yang tidak pernah ada hubungannya dengan cerita kita. Atau mungkin pernah merasa ada? percaya deh, itu cuma bagian alam diri yang menuntut jadi dramatis.

Saya pun ingin begitu. Saya ingin hidup yang dramatis dengan hujan setiap hari. Pergi naik kapal bajak laut setiap kuliah, kampus diatas langit atau di bawah air. Ketidakbiasaan yang membuat keberadaan jadi nyata dan berbeda. Saya mau latar belakang gelap dan petir tiap kali hati saya sakit, saya mau kilat menyambar tiap kali saya marah. Saya mau alam ikut memperingati, menghargai perubahan emosi saya. Bahkan sekarang ini saya maunya menulis diatas pasir putih pulau sempu, bukannya di blog elektronik.

Karena itu sewaktu bangun dan menerima cerahnya langit, saya langsung rindu hujan. kan seharusnya setiap kejadian dramatis di latar- belakangi dengan hujan. Jatuh cinta, patah hati, jatuh cinta.

4.2.16

Crossroad-

>>play

it's 2:31 AM in the morning when I'm all too full with thesis and missing writing a little too much. I will start telling you about the beginning of my day (strikes many trivial parts of course)

I was notice a new artwork painted at my campus interior wall just today. I can't took a photo because of students pool in front of it, but to give you a picture, There are clouds, sky, houses and city skyline. Painted with yellow and white colours. What I do notice it's actually the only word written at the middle of the wall art: Crossroads (all caps)

I sat while waiting for a friend, sat directly in front of the 3.5m x 4m artwork wall, when many nostalgia kicked in. I remembered my crossroad. Which I could say I had quite a few. I'm a thinking person. Sometimes I had many questioning thoughts at my head. Sometimes my thought calming me down or making me happy, but other times, they work the other way around. But at that artwork-starring moment, my thought empty and pictures rush in instead. Moments, time, people, stories, faith, hopes, all showed up in my mind like a movie. Painted with yellow and white, the happiest and brightest combination of color.

Crossroads; a junction where four roads meet

I like the way of universe works, the quirky way of how people's roads could cross. The odd question of how things could started, of how we met people in the beginning and now already fall far for them. Or maybe the junction was only temporary and finally people went their own way. When they can either learn or forget about each other. I'm starting to see my future crossroads will be interesting enough, painted not only in yellow and white when my friend arrive and pull me out of my trance. But it was nice, I didn't have much time with my own thoughts these days. I love pause point.

12.11.15

A letter to Dad at Father's Day. So Iconic.

So today is a father's day. I think it's a quarter hour left to write any dramatic piece about memories and any sadness left (like I used to do at times like these)(and Plath's Bell of Jar was my favorite) But I didn't caught in any downroad spiral anymore, so I wanted to write an easy letter for him tonight.
A conversation any daughter and father could have between afternoon coffees or morning newspapers.
*
To my dear dear Father who greatly greatly miss,
Dad, just today when I set up my 'nest' in grandma's room I drop my stuff a lot while trying to bring everything in my two hands, I remember you always remind me to bring things one by one. I just wash my hair too, it's already grow long now, like you'll always love. it's wet and I put a small towel behind, and also I remember you dryed my hair and put a towel behind so the water didn't soaked at the back of my cloth. This and that are little things I'm still doing upon every remembrance of you. And Dad, if only you know what my thesis is all about you will be pleased! we can sit all night talking about it. jump to my professor, I think he's hate me but it strange my grade is remain good. Dad I'm sorry I'm wrong about Nicole Kidman, you're right all along! that's a different woman named Rachel Weisz. Dad I've skimmed your books and old magazine last week, I choose my favorite, can I take them to my room? Dad, I found your photographs. it picture you and your acoustic guitar, white t-shirt and blue jeans at this kind of church event. Dad I didn't realize you are that good I wish I could learn much more than I had from you! my favorite acoustic play is Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven. it had this calming melody and I mean every lyric for you each time I play it.
Dad, I'm feeling blessed and so so happy one of these days, I knew you're too now in heaven. It's not a typical afternoon talks and those are never all things I wanted to talk about. But let's leave this conversation hanging like we have any time in the world.
But I know we had.
*
Happy Father's day, Dad.
God, I miss you.
-

15.9.15

Film Film

I process my film roll weeks ago, that was my first time did it, so the result kind of surprised me. They didn't came out good enough but I really love the feeling of taking picture with analog and follow all the process to enable you to see the photo result. I like all those waiting it intriguate. But maybe I'm just the kind of person who like vintage things. I like records, listen musics from cd play from heavy boombox, old thick sweater, really old movies and etc.




These photo taken while I went to an architecture exhibition at Kota Tua, Jakarta. All too grey in my opinion.

These two taken at night around BSD area (Jakarta suburb). The first bridge photo didn't came out too dark, but the other four photos in the roll came out just show light leaks like the second picture, and I don't know why. 

I use pentax espio 140 v, it's silver, can zoom 3x and really cute. I'm still looking for a new roll and wanted to capture things again. Enough about analog camera, the other news is I'm just starting my thesis, finally. Last semester my campus system canceled my final project altogether because one and two requirement I can't fullfilled. but now all is going pretty well and I'm already in the middle of my paper.
What anything left to say? Life's been great recently :)
ps. if you know place that sell roll fill around south or west jakarta, tell me.

6.8.15

In the room, Afternoon.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.
-
Yes I just open this post with a poem to get a bit dramatic. Unless I'm really isn't at dramatic mood at all, and those poem doesn't even mine. High five. Ugh. Sorry I watched a bit too much comedy series these whole unemployed weeks. I'm trying to joking up there. And I knew I failed. So okay, it's been so long since last time I blog and life's pretty amazing lately. Yesterday I just got myself into this new church community and whole new friends which is really fun. Honestly, more of that, I'm feeling blessed. God had been so amazing. Life was pretty sad and I was a little lost few months ago between what this called hormone and feelings. I have this friend who always, I don't know, have a faith in me. Like how many times I said no and bring her down, she always just there believe I would find an answer. I'm still in this process of getting step back, I knew I will taking it a bit slowly but I know I'm not turning back.
Final thesis is around the corner. It will start second week at september, I believe this time, all will went well. I need to face things more mature and I have to use my time really well. I know it's just about time I got my bachelor degree. I can't wait to get into real world, working, be an architect try every possibilities there. Because working before graduate is actually not the favorite choice of mine. My last undergraduate job is not the intern kind and my Bosses offer me a long-term work to begin a new continuous project but I can't take it since I need to finish my degree first or else I can't do both fully, working and doing thesis.
Life is about making choices, well being mature also is. There is this saying that said 'You are what you think' All is in mind. I wanted to be a person with a positive mind and voilĂ ! I will be the person. I can be the person. I wanted to have faith. in God. in 'everythings going to be alright' in 'forgive to forget' in not so mysterious ways you can choose about how to live your life.
.
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
-Fair as star, when only one
is shining in the sky
.
A poem by William Wordsworth. One of the romantic poet of his era. Life is about being romantic to yourself. Writing romantic story, give cheap present to someone who loves you but you can't love back. To someone who wait for you, to someone you deeply love and hurt you. Singing a romantic song about loss and stars in the sky, about feelings. Play your guitar with feelings! picking strumming, your voice doesn't matter. Life is as easy and simple and as romantic and positive.
I wanted life like that.
/