Looking back, 2013 has been quite exciting. I travelled a lot and did a lot, for someone who works and sleeps in the same room. I went to six different countries and met a whole lot of new people. I redefined freedom and myself. I also found things that I didn't think I'd find in life any time soon. I found a home and love that goes with it.
Meeting people has always been one of the goals when I travel and I think I have somewhat achieved this. I made new friends, very good friends too. It's nice to realise that nation borders don't mean anything when you share so many things in common, even if that's only your taste in music or food. Relating to people who were total strangers before because you shared a similar history or talking to people who have similar interest in culture and politics reminds me that humans are essentially alike, despite the other attributes that defined you a person, different from the others.
Freedom has always been a muddled concept for me, especially if you're a female and you live in Indonesia and have a family who is a bit crazy about religion. It would become even more complicated if you don't share your family's belief or faith. I had never understood what it felt or meant to be free (as in, free to live life according to how I see fit) until I travelled. When I went to different countries and saw how people, culture and social norms could be so different to the place I used to call "home", I realised that hey, yes, I can actually be free and be myself, and I won't get punished or chastised for doing so. I really love travelling. It reminds me that the world isn't such a bad place, and although there are so many dumbshits in this human civilisation, you'd still find the rare gems and when you do, you'd cherish them even more.
And now I have a home where I can go back to. Yes, it is new and still needs a better, more solid foundation, but the process has started and I am more than happy to sweat and bleed to make a nice safe comfortable home. And this time, I am not alone. This time, I have someone who is also willing to work hard, together.
So, 2013 has been eventful. I ended things and started new even more exciting things. I travelled and found home in my travel. I learnt new things and met new people. I understood myself better and knew that I could be better. I am thanking myself, fellow humans and the world for this amazing year. And may the following year will be as eventful and joyous.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
A Christmas Letter for You
I made a "status update" on Facebook recently, saying that I would be going on another trip and see another country, explore a new place and meet new strange people, but there's one significant difference now. Now, I have a home to go back to.
You are my new-found home. Unlikely it may seem, I found home after flying as far as 14,000 km from where I have lived and grown up. That island and city are something I often called home but never truly felt like one. I actually didn't understand what home was before I met you. And now I do. It's warmth and comfort; it's safety and care; it's love and affection. You are the constant source of these things that make me at home...at ease, not worried or anxious about all terrible things in the vast dark world.
The most important thing about this new-found home is that it allows me to be myself. How many times I have told you that I have been leading an abridged life? Censored by social and cultural norms and parental warnings. When I'm with you, I can be myself. Maybe this is what freedom tastes like. Maybe freedom isn't such a utopian concept after all like I thought before.
I have read your letter about Christmas and it reminds me that Christmas is like Hari Raya: it's time when you go back to see your family and closest friends. Although I am not there physically, you know that you have me. And I'm sending you warm hugs through digital space. It might not be as good as the real ones, but they are yours to keep.
Now I understand why I have been working so hard these past years: I have been paving a way to find home. However, it's not easy to go back home now, but I feel it's going to be worth the effort. I have never wanted anything this much, so I am fairly certain I will make every necessary effort to come back home to you.
Have a happy Christmas. I love you.
You are my new-found home. Unlikely it may seem, I found home after flying as far as 14,000 km from where I have lived and grown up. That island and city are something I often called home but never truly felt like one. I actually didn't understand what home was before I met you. And now I do. It's warmth and comfort; it's safety and care; it's love and affection. You are the constant source of these things that make me at home...at ease, not worried or anxious about all terrible things in the vast dark world.
The most important thing about this new-found home is that it allows me to be myself. How many times I have told you that I have been leading an abridged life? Censored by social and cultural norms and parental warnings. When I'm with you, I can be myself. Maybe this is what freedom tastes like. Maybe freedom isn't such a utopian concept after all like I thought before.
I have read your letter about Christmas and it reminds me that Christmas is like Hari Raya: it's time when you go back to see your family and closest friends. Although I am not there physically, you know that you have me. And I'm sending you warm hugs through digital space. It might not be as good as the real ones, but they are yours to keep.
Now I understand why I have been working so hard these past years: I have been paving a way to find home. However, it's not easy to go back home now, but I feel it's going to be worth the effort. I have never wanted anything this much, so I am fairly certain I will make every necessary effort to come back home to you.
Have a happy Christmas. I love you.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
First Berlin Skinhead Gig
I once wrote about going to a punk gig in my hometown and left feeling so alienated since I didn't look like everyone who was there (in blacks, pierced face, eyeliner, weird haircut). You can read it here. I've been to different punk/hardcore/metal/(insert your favourite genre) gigs and every time I go to these kinds of events, it seems that I always fail to look like everyone else. Talking about constantly underdressed.
Recently I just took the experience up a notch. I was in Berlin for a couple of days and was asked to see a skinhead gig while I was there. My friend's band from Utrecht, Discharger, was playing at that gig and I was quite excited when I knew I'd be in Berlin at the same time with the gig. So we went to the club, Red Club, where the gig was playing. I was bit surprised with the venue because it looked nothing like a place where a skinhead gig in Bandung would be held. It's basically a club. It looked like a club. It smelt like a club: cigarettes and beer. It's Germany in winter, after all. In Bandung, you'd get a football field (or any kind of field) filled with sweaty teenagers who sing along when their favourite skinhead/punk bands playing their favourite songs.
It was a whole different experience because not only I didn't dress like a skinhead, I was also the only Asian in the club. So as you might expect, I got a decent amount of staring. I was the smallest, looking odd with my brown skin and dark hair. Plus my goofy glasses. But the guy at the door didn't even bother asking for my ID. Yay Berlin, you are so much better than Sydney or Melbourne. At first it felt really awkward, like going to a freak show, but you are the freak instead of the people on stage. There was a band playing when I arrived; my friend's band was the last act. Somehow I didn't realise they were quite well-known, even in Berlin. I decided to watch the band who was performing at that time. I needed some sort of acclimatisation before I mingled with the crowd. Got myself a beer and stood close to the stage. It didn't take a long time for me to realise that band was a bit shit.
Then my friend's band was on stage. I could see that some people were getting quite excited. When my friend (he's the vocalist of this band) said his introductory speech, I realised it was their first Berlin gig, yet people were pretty pumped. That was cool. With what's left of my partner's camera's battery, I started taking pictures of the band. I felt so much relaxed when I picked up the camera and positioned myself in front of the band. People were screaming lyrics next to me, but I didn't even notice. I was enjoying myself being the only person in the room who's taking pictures. It didn't feel pretentious or anything. It's my friend's band. I like taking their pictures in action. It's not like in Indonesia where everyone got a freakin DSLR (although I'm not sure they know how to use it properly) and too busy to enjoy the gig because they're too busy taking pictures that they won't even bother to look at once they're out of the gig.
Before the gig, we were smoking in the smoking area and talked to some people. One gay German skinhead (yes, they exist and they're super cool), a good friend of my partner, told me how cute I was in my skinhead denim jacket. I laughed and told him it was my partner's and that I wasn't even trying to look like a skinhead. He then told me that I didn't have to worry and everyone's here cool enough. He was right. Everyone was cool. One guy even thought I and my partner were cute enough he wanted to take our picture together. I guess you don't see many British and Indonesian couples in a skinhead gig.
I'm not sure yet why in Indonesia going to a skinhead/punk gig when you are not one of them often will terrorise you rather than give you any enjoyment whatsoever. I guess the culture is different although it's the same scene. A bit odd considering Indonesians are friendlier in general than Europeans. I can tell there's a sense of exclusivity when it comes to "scenes" in Indonesia. Of course, I'm generalising and I'm quite sure there are people in different scenes who don't behave in such way. I just don't see many of them. Maybe I need to go out more.
Recently I just took the experience up a notch. I was in Berlin for a couple of days and was asked to see a skinhead gig while I was there. My friend's band from Utrecht, Discharger, was playing at that gig and I was quite excited when I knew I'd be in Berlin at the same time with the gig. So we went to the club, Red Club, where the gig was playing. I was bit surprised with the venue because it looked nothing like a place where a skinhead gig in Bandung would be held. It's basically a club. It looked like a club. It smelt like a club: cigarettes and beer. It's Germany in winter, after all. In Bandung, you'd get a football field (or any kind of field) filled with sweaty teenagers who sing along when their favourite skinhead/punk bands playing their favourite songs.It was a whole different experience because not only I didn't dress like a skinhead, I was also the only Asian in the club. So as you might expect, I got a decent amount of staring. I was the smallest, looking odd with my brown skin and dark hair. Plus my goofy glasses. But the guy at the door didn't even bother asking for my ID. Yay Berlin, you are so much better than Sydney or Melbourne. At first it felt really awkward, like going to a freak show, but you are the freak instead of the people on stage. There was a band playing when I arrived; my friend's band was the last act. Somehow I didn't realise they were quite well-known, even in Berlin. I decided to watch the band who was performing at that time. I needed some sort of acclimatisation before I mingled with the crowd. Got myself a beer and stood close to the stage. It didn't take a long time for me to realise that band was a bit shit.
Then my friend's band was on stage. I could see that some people were getting quite excited. When my friend (he's the vocalist of this band) said his introductory speech, I realised it was their first Berlin gig, yet people were pretty pumped. That was cool. With what's left of my partner's camera's battery, I started taking pictures of the band. I felt so much relaxed when I picked up the camera and positioned myself in front of the band. People were screaming lyrics next to me, but I didn't even notice. I was enjoying myself being the only person in the room who's taking pictures. It didn't feel pretentious or anything. It's my friend's band. I like taking their pictures in action. It's not like in Indonesia where everyone got a freakin DSLR (although I'm not sure they know how to use it properly) and too busy to enjoy the gig because they're too busy taking pictures that they won't even bother to look at once they're out of the gig.
Before the gig, we were smoking in the smoking area and talked to some people. One gay German skinhead (yes, they exist and they're super cool), a good friend of my partner, told me how cute I was in my skinhead denim jacket. I laughed and told him it was my partner's and that I wasn't even trying to look like a skinhead. He then told me that I didn't have to worry and everyone's here cool enough. He was right. Everyone was cool. One guy even thought I and my partner were cute enough he wanted to take our picture together. I guess you don't see many British and Indonesian couples in a skinhead gig.
I'm not sure yet why in Indonesia going to a skinhead/punk gig when you are not one of them often will terrorise you rather than give you any enjoyment whatsoever. I guess the culture is different although it's the same scene. A bit odd considering Indonesians are friendlier in general than Europeans. I can tell there's a sense of exclusivity when it comes to "scenes" in Indonesia. Of course, I'm generalising and I'm quite sure there are people in different scenes who don't behave in such way. I just don't see many of them. Maybe I need to go out more.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Apa kabar Indonesia?
Saya tidak paham orang Indonesia yang bisa mengeluh soal Indonesia; perkara infrastruktur yang berantakan, korupsi merajalela, calon presiden yang aneh dan menggelikan (atau pelanggar HAM berat), lantas mengeluarkan solusi pribadi: mari pergi dari negara ini! kemudian, tambahan lagi, mengkritik peningkatan/perbaikan yang, sekalipun memang lambat jika dibandingkan negara lain di Asia Tenggara, sedang dilakukan oleh beberapa pejabat negara yang sepertinya tahu bagaimana cara menjalankan tugas mereka.
Sayangnya, tidak semua orang punya kemewahan untuk bermigrasi. Sayangnya lagi, yang bermigrasi keluar dari negara ini kebanyakan orang-orang cerdas. Saya sempat terbayang, seandainya solusi orang Indonesia cerdas semuanya adalah bermigrasi keluar dari Indonesia, lantas negara ini apa kabarnya? Hanya akan terisi oleh kelompok fundamentalis garis kanan yang lebih senang teriak-teriak karena diupahi nasi bungkus, ketimbang duduk diam dan membaca lebih banyak dan berdebat perkara kepercayaan dan agama dengan pemikiran yang kritis.
Saya bukan ingin bilang orang Indonesia harus senantiasa tinggal di Indonesia. Saya juga akan lebih senang kalau bisa mendapatkan kesempatan untuk tinggal di negara lain, yang punya tingkat keteraturan dan disiplin yang jauh lebih baik dibandingkan Indonesia, tapi saya tidak mau hanya mengkritik mengkritik mengkritik, bahkan mengkritik orang yang sedang berusaha membuat perubahan, lalu dengan mudah bilang, saya mau migrasi dari negara ini sajalah, agar masalah saya selesai. Setidaknya ketika saya sekarang masih tinggal di Indonesia, saya mencari cara untuk ikut membuat perubahan, atau bergabung dengan teman-teman yang sedang bergerak membuat perubahan.
Tapi ya kan ada yang namanya kebebasan individu, bukan? Dan kalau memang pada akhirnya banyak orang Indonesia cerdas yang migrasi keluar dari negara ini karena mereka pikir itu yang terbaik untuk mereka, siapa yang bisa memprotes? Dan seperti saya punya hak untuk mengomel di blog saya, mereka juga punya hak membuat pernyataan-pernyataan yang menggelitik di media sosial mereka.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is that you probably want to do something first yourself before you start criticising other people for trying to make a change. Because that's really boring, dude.
Sayangnya, tidak semua orang punya kemewahan untuk bermigrasi. Sayangnya lagi, yang bermigrasi keluar dari negara ini kebanyakan orang-orang cerdas. Saya sempat terbayang, seandainya solusi orang Indonesia cerdas semuanya adalah bermigrasi keluar dari Indonesia, lantas negara ini apa kabarnya? Hanya akan terisi oleh kelompok fundamentalis garis kanan yang lebih senang teriak-teriak karena diupahi nasi bungkus, ketimbang duduk diam dan membaca lebih banyak dan berdebat perkara kepercayaan dan agama dengan pemikiran yang kritis.
Saya bukan ingin bilang orang Indonesia harus senantiasa tinggal di Indonesia. Saya juga akan lebih senang kalau bisa mendapatkan kesempatan untuk tinggal di negara lain, yang punya tingkat keteraturan dan disiplin yang jauh lebih baik dibandingkan Indonesia, tapi saya tidak mau hanya mengkritik mengkritik mengkritik, bahkan mengkritik orang yang sedang berusaha membuat perubahan, lalu dengan mudah bilang, saya mau migrasi dari negara ini sajalah, agar masalah saya selesai. Setidaknya ketika saya sekarang masih tinggal di Indonesia, saya mencari cara untuk ikut membuat perubahan, atau bergabung dengan teman-teman yang sedang bergerak membuat perubahan.
Tapi ya kan ada yang namanya kebebasan individu, bukan? Dan kalau memang pada akhirnya banyak orang Indonesia cerdas yang migrasi keluar dari negara ini karena mereka pikir itu yang terbaik untuk mereka, siapa yang bisa memprotes? Dan seperti saya punya hak untuk mengomel di blog saya, mereka juga punya hak membuat pernyataan-pernyataan yang menggelitik di media sosial mereka.
Maybe what I'm trying to say is that you probably want to do something first yourself before you start criticising other people for trying to make a change. Because that's really boring, dude.
Friday, September 27, 2013
A Bully on the Playground
Social media, regardless how redundant the phrase is, is such an interesting playground. And just like real (literal) playground, you get different sorts of little humans (sometimes big humans) running around, screaming, squealing, minding their own little business and so on and so forth.
You know in a playground, sometimes you get a bully, right? The one who just likes to shove other kids with no other reasons than seeing the other kid cries or runs away in fear. Well, it happens in social media too. You get people who just like to poke at another person's forehead and tell that person he/she's stupid. They don't make any incomprehensible argument. They just say your argument is stupid and that you are shallow for making that argument. Why is your argument stupid? Why are you shallow? No reason. It just is. You just are. Suck it.
I know when it comes to Internet and social media, you kinda have to deal with morons on a daily basis. But this bully incident happened on my Facebook account; a playground where you (sort of ) know everyone and that everyone is (allegedly) your frien . And the "bully" was a (well, I guess not a good) friend from high school time. I thought people being "adults" meant they would be more responsible to what they would say. You know, if someone makes an argument, generally that person has a reason to make such argument? And if you think the argument is annoying, you either can 1) make a counterargument, or 2) ignore it (i.e. unfriend that person). Well, I guess I'm wrong.
It's funny that this "friend" was upset because I criticised Indonesian health care service, i.e. the doctors at hospitals. I think this "friend" is a doctor. I can't even remember what she does. What is intriguing for me, it's that she was upset and then accused me of acting shallow and irresponsible. Why would she be upset about what I mentioned on my timeline? Is it necessary for her to make a case on behalf of ALL Indonesian health care staff? If yes, why? Considering what I wrote is a very personal vent, hence I wrote it on my Facebook account (you can't see what I post unless you're a friend), what difference does it make to her professional world? Has my critic destroyed her sense of security?
It's also funny that after she said I was "shallow and unresponsible (sic)", she posted a "status update" (which of course popped out on my newsfeed) that basically said your shallowness makes you look stupid. Should I be flattered and think that update is about me?
I think what annoys me the most is how some people, people that I chose to be friends with on this one specific platform of social media, are just dumb and saying dumb stuff, or acting all high and mighty and bullying everyone with insults. I guess that's the thing with Facebook. You know this person from high school, from elementary school, from babies or I don't know, and then you think that hey, she/he was cool back then; there's no harm keeping in touch on Facebook now. Well, yeah, it doesn't always work that way. And I know it's rather dumb of me by getting annoyed.
In the end, I just ended it with a very typical gesture. I sighed and shook my head, wondering why I haven't deleted my Facebook account.
You know in a playground, sometimes you get a bully, right? The one who just likes to shove other kids with no other reasons than seeing the other kid cries or runs away in fear. Well, it happens in social media too. You get people who just like to poke at another person's forehead and tell that person he/she's stupid. They don't make any incomprehensible argument. They just say your argument is stupid and that you are shallow for making that argument. Why is your argument stupid? Why are you shallow? No reason. It just is. You just are. Suck it.
I know when it comes to Internet and social media, you kinda have to deal with morons on a daily basis. But this bully incident happened on my Facebook account; a playground where you (sort of ) know everyone and that everyone is (allegedly) your frien . And the "bully" was a (well, I guess not a good) friend from high school time. I thought people being "adults" meant they would be more responsible to what they would say. You know, if someone makes an argument, generally that person has a reason to make such argument? And if you think the argument is annoying, you either can 1) make a counterargument, or 2) ignore it (i.e. unfriend that person). Well, I guess I'm wrong.
It's funny that this "friend" was upset because I criticised Indonesian health care service, i.e. the doctors at hospitals. I think this "friend" is a doctor. I can't even remember what she does. What is intriguing for me, it's that she was upset and then accused me of acting shallow and irresponsible. Why would she be upset about what I mentioned on my timeline? Is it necessary for her to make a case on behalf of ALL Indonesian health care staff? If yes, why? Considering what I wrote is a very personal vent, hence I wrote it on my Facebook account (you can't see what I post unless you're a friend), what difference does it make to her professional world? Has my critic destroyed her sense of security?
It's also funny that after she said I was "shallow and unresponsible (sic)", she posted a "status update" (which of course popped out on my newsfeed) that basically said your shallowness makes you look stupid. Should I be flattered and think that update is about me?
I think what annoys me the most is how some people, people that I chose to be friends with on this one specific platform of social media, are just dumb and saying dumb stuff, or acting all high and mighty and bullying everyone with insults. I guess that's the thing with Facebook. You know this person from high school, from elementary school, from babies or I don't know, and then you think that hey, she/he was cool back then; there's no harm keeping in touch on Facebook now. Well, yeah, it doesn't always work that way. And I know it's rather dumb of me by getting annoyed.
In the end, I just ended it with a very typical gesture. I sighed and shook my head, wondering why I haven't deleted my Facebook account.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Alert! Stingy client ahead!
When I decided to work as a freelancer and left my tiny cubicle at my old office, I knew that there would be a catch. Freelancing gives me lots of freedom and space to move. That's the main point but of course, there's a catch. You have to deal with clients, and not all of them are pleasant and cooperative.
I've had different clients over the years working as a freelance translator and editor. I've got annoying ones, cooperative ones, kind-but-don't-understand-anything ones, stubborn-but-smart ones, etc.
And just recently, I got a super stingy one. The client actually paid less than the amount on the invoice. It's not much, though, only IDR 1000 (8.7 US cents) gone missing. But, how can this be right? If you go out for a meal, and then the waiter hands you a bill that says $14.08, can you actually get away with only paying $14? Unless, the waiter/manager says otherwise, you have to pay that 8 cents. That's just how trade works.
It's not the fact that I didn't get my 8.7 cents (yes, it is ONLY 8.7 cents, for god's sake); it's about the fact that the client just did this without saying anything to me beforehand and that I already gave her a discounted rate. Losing 8.7 cents is not enough reason to get cranky, but getting the feeling that the client probably doesn't appreciate me is another matter. But I shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same client who, a couple of years ago, told me I was still a rookie and didn't deserve to get a professional rate, AFTER I finished the job before the deadline and sent it to her.
I took this project because it involved a friend and it was him who wanted me to translate for him. Unfortunately, the project was related to that particular client. So, if there's should be a moral of this story, it will be: avoid clients whom already gave you bad experience at any cost.
I've had different clients over the years working as a freelance translator and editor. I've got annoying ones, cooperative ones, kind-but-don't-understand-anything ones, stubborn-but-smart ones, etc.
And just recently, I got a super stingy one. The client actually paid less than the amount on the invoice. It's not much, though, only IDR 1000 (8.7 US cents) gone missing. But, how can this be right? If you go out for a meal, and then the waiter hands you a bill that says $14.08, can you actually get away with only paying $14? Unless, the waiter/manager says otherwise, you have to pay that 8 cents. That's just how trade works.
It's not the fact that I didn't get my 8.7 cents (yes, it is ONLY 8.7 cents, for god's sake); it's about the fact that the client just did this without saying anything to me beforehand and that I already gave her a discounted rate. Losing 8.7 cents is not enough reason to get cranky, but getting the feeling that the client probably doesn't appreciate me is another matter. But I shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same client who, a couple of years ago, told me I was still a rookie and didn't deserve to get a professional rate, AFTER I finished the job before the deadline and sent it to her.
I took this project because it involved a friend and it was him who wanted me to translate for him. Unfortunately, the project was related to that particular client. So, if there's should be a moral of this story, it will be: avoid clients whom already gave you bad experience at any cost.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Angry rambling (what's new, really?)
Yesterday when I was having lunch at home with my parents, we talked about people who rented my parents' property. They also manage my grandmum's property. And my dad mentioned that one guy actually said they didn't need a written agreement on when he had to pay the rest of his rent money because, and I quote, "I'm a Muslim. You can trust me."
I told my dad how amazingly insane that statement was. Considering how corruption plagues all levels of administration in this country, including the Religious Affairs Ministry, and that most of the corruptors are indeed Muslim, the statement is just ludicrous. Of course, it is not uncommon. People here say that all the time. Acting all pious and pretentious, they strive to prove they are the better humans because they hold their faith and god so highly.
I guess I'm angry. I'm angry with people who think they can get away with everything (including hideous crimes) because they have faith and when they sin, they can repent and god will forgive them, because god is all merciful, and they will be okay. The world will be fine.
I also am angry listening to the repeated jargon. Take one for example: cleanliness is part of your faith. This one sounds so detached with reality. One thing, you don't need faith to stay clean or keep everything clean. You just need your common sense. You don't litter because you are responsible for your own rubbish. That's yours to manage, not everyone else. And certainly not any god's business either.
And if everyone is so good because they follow and do religious activities all the time, why is this country so fucked up? Why do people think going back to an era where a dictator ruled the country is a great idea? Why do animals get neglected and abused in almost every government-managed zoos in the country? Why?
Alright, I'm rambling. I wish I knew how I could make a difference.
I told my dad how amazingly insane that statement was. Considering how corruption plagues all levels of administration in this country, including the Religious Affairs Ministry, and that most of the corruptors are indeed Muslim, the statement is just ludicrous. Of course, it is not uncommon. People here say that all the time. Acting all pious and pretentious, they strive to prove they are the better humans because they hold their faith and god so highly.
I guess I'm angry. I'm angry with people who think they can get away with everything (including hideous crimes) because they have faith and when they sin, they can repent and god will forgive them, because god is all merciful, and they will be okay. The world will be fine.
I also am angry listening to the repeated jargon. Take one for example: cleanliness is part of your faith. This one sounds so detached with reality. One thing, you don't need faith to stay clean or keep everything clean. You just need your common sense. You don't litter because you are responsible for your own rubbish. That's yours to manage, not everyone else. And certainly not any god's business either.
And if everyone is so good because they follow and do religious activities all the time, why is this country so fucked up? Why do people think going back to an era where a dictator ruled the country is a great idea? Why do animals get neglected and abused in almost every government-managed zoos in the country? Why?
Alright, I'm rambling. I wish I knew how I could make a difference.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
An Orbituary
I remembered when she came to the family. She was tiny, and her brother was tiny too. She didn't look too healthy and so did her brother. Their mum was quite tired having babies, I think. She had grey-white coat. Her brother was all grey. They were twins, but they didn't look alike at all.
We thought they would grow as big as their uncles and dad. Apparently no. They remained tiny and slim. The tiny generation of the family. Reminds me of myself. The youngest and smallest of the pack. Then, the brother had a new home.
She then lived her days with her mum, dad and a step-brother. Mum then ran away. Possibly because the dude next door was more attractive. And possibly because the dude next door wanted to give her pleasure, unlike dad who was more obsessed with food now more than anything.
The half twin didn't socialise much. She was a loner, from when she was still a kitten. She didn't like the other so much. I don't understand why. Maybe that's just the way she was. She would let me touch and stroke her. And she liked when I rubbed her belly. But sometimes, she didn't want anyone to get close to her. I decided that I loved her in a peculiar way, more distanced than the two boys. But I loved her still.
She then was set up on a date by my parents, a thing that I tried to avoid. I didn't want her to have kittens. There are too many strays in this world. We don't need more kittens. But anyway, it happened. Their devious plan worked since I was away for more than two weeks from home. She was pregnant and I couldn't do anything about it.
Came the kittens, two tiny golden bundle of joy. Despite my disapproval, I fell in love instantly with them. I hand-fed her when she couldn't get up because she was too scared to leave her newborns. I stayed with her for hours when she was nursing her babies, just making sure that she was fine. I knew I loved her and her babies.
After a while, like any mum cats, she distanced herself from her babies. And then she grew more aloof. She didn't want to eat. She was never a big eater from the first place. But she was even more reluctant then. I tried giving different food. It didn't work. She just didn't want to eat. Several different trips to the vet didn't do much. She still didn't gain any weight.
One morning I found her breathing heavily, with saliva around her mouth. I knew something was terribly wrong and I dreaded for the worst. I rushed her to a clinic and the vet said they would have to keep her there. OK, I said and I stroked her head before I left the clinic. When I came to see her, they said she was doing a bit better and for a cat infected by distemper, she was fighting hard. And I was glad, but sad at the same time because I knew she must have been in pain.
And then one night I got a call from the clinic. Night calls never bring you good news. I was told that she wasn't doing fine. And I knew I was going to lose her. And she passed an hour after I got the call. And I felt a bit of me died too. It hurt quite a lot.
I'm still a bit scared that the others might get sick too. But I guess worrying too much will not do anyone good. So, I'm hoping for the best (while making all the cats eat vitamins all the time) and if there's a special place to go when you die, I hope there's one too for all the cats in the world. I hope she is there too. Though, you have a special place in my heart and mind. I love you Tingting. And I miss you already.
We thought they would grow as big as their uncles and dad. Apparently no. They remained tiny and slim. The tiny generation of the family. Reminds me of myself. The youngest and smallest of the pack. Then, the brother had a new home.
She then lived her days with her mum, dad and a step-brother. Mum then ran away. Possibly because the dude next door was more attractive. And possibly because the dude next door wanted to give her pleasure, unlike dad who was more obsessed with food now more than anything.
The half twin didn't socialise much. She was a loner, from when she was still a kitten. She didn't like the other so much. I don't understand why. Maybe that's just the way she was. She would let me touch and stroke her. And she liked when I rubbed her belly. But sometimes, she didn't want anyone to get close to her. I decided that I loved her in a peculiar way, more distanced than the two boys. But I loved her still.
She then was set up on a date by my parents, a thing that I tried to avoid. I didn't want her to have kittens. There are too many strays in this world. We don't need more kittens. But anyway, it happened. Their devious plan worked since I was away for more than two weeks from home. She was pregnant and I couldn't do anything about it.
Came the kittens, two tiny golden bundle of joy. Despite my disapproval, I fell in love instantly with them. I hand-fed her when she couldn't get up because she was too scared to leave her newborns. I stayed with her for hours when she was nursing her babies, just making sure that she was fine. I knew I loved her and her babies.
After a while, like any mum cats, she distanced herself from her babies. And then she grew more aloof. She didn't want to eat. She was never a big eater from the first place. But she was even more reluctant then. I tried giving different food. It didn't work. She just didn't want to eat. Several different trips to the vet didn't do much. She still didn't gain any weight.
One morning I found her breathing heavily, with saliva around her mouth. I knew something was terribly wrong and I dreaded for the worst. I rushed her to a clinic and the vet said they would have to keep her there. OK, I said and I stroked her head before I left the clinic. When I came to see her, they said she was doing a bit better and for a cat infected by distemper, she was fighting hard. And I was glad, but sad at the same time because I knew she must have been in pain.
And then one night I got a call from the clinic. Night calls never bring you good news. I was told that she wasn't doing fine. And I knew I was going to lose her. And she passed an hour after I got the call. And I felt a bit of me died too. It hurt quite a lot.
I'm still a bit scared that the others might get sick too. But I guess worrying too much will not do anyone good. So, I'm hoping for the best (while making all the cats eat vitamins all the time) and if there's a special place to go when you die, I hope there's one too for all the cats in the world. I hope she is there too. Though, you have a special place in my heart and mind. I love you Tingting. And I miss you already.
Friday, April 26, 2013
Hear evil, see evil, speak evil
When one celebrity ustaz died in an accident, the media coverages made it seem like it's a national tragedy.
When dozens of Papuans killed in Papua by the military, no one reacted. If there's any, people often said they felt bad about it, but then what could they do?
I heard from a friend, who was really upset when she told me this, that a 'famous' comedian here said that people should move on and stop dwelling in the past. He meant the unfinished murder case of Munir.
I read somewhere in Aceh, women can't fart in public anymore. I hope this is a hoax. The banana ban is bad enough. And now farting in public? (Oh you don't know about the eating-banana-in-public ban for women? Really?)
I wonder how Acehnese women feel about being a woman and live in such bigoted community. Oh wait, maybe they don't even understand the concept of bigotry because everything under Sharia is absolutely 100 percent true. It's God's words. What could possibly wrong about them?
Yes, I wonder what can possibly wrong about the words of God.
When dozens of Papuans killed in Papua by the military, no one reacted. If there's any, people often said they felt bad about it, but then what could they do?
I heard from a friend, who was really upset when she told me this, that a 'famous' comedian here said that people should move on and stop dwelling in the past. He meant the unfinished murder case of Munir.
I read somewhere in Aceh, women can't fart in public anymore. I hope this is a hoax. The banana ban is bad enough. And now farting in public? (Oh you don't know about the eating-banana-in-public ban for women? Really?)
I wonder how Acehnese women feel about being a woman and live in such bigoted community. Oh wait, maybe they don't even understand the concept of bigotry because everything under Sharia is absolutely 100 percent true. It's God's words. What could possibly wrong about them?
Yes, I wonder what can possibly wrong about the words of God.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Unity in Diversity? MIA
I've been reading different things about atheism recently and then it got me thinking: How can you be an atheist in a country with the largest Muslim population in the world? In a country where acknowledging atheism is the same as an invitation to get arrested, harassed and most likely hurt? In a country where thugs wearing white long robes and silly white hats, chanting something presumably meaningful in Arabic, CAN actually get away with murder? I guess the answer is: secretly.
There was a case of an atheist civil servant in this country who posted a status saying he didn't necessarily believe in god. And that didn't end nicely for the man, of course. He was then arrested, convicted committing blasphemy, got fired and then spent some time behind bars. I have lots of atheist friends, and I don't think they ever said it out loud. And that was before the FPI-era; before people can hurt other people just because they pray differently with the majority. Before churches in Bekasi were forcefully closed down. Before Ahmadiyahs got killed and trapped in their own mosque or houses. Before Buddhist temple was asked to take down their Buddha figure on top of THEIR temple's entrance.
The fact that Indonesia still considers blasphemy as a criminal conduct is beyond my comprehension. By definition, blasphemy is the act of insulting or showing contempt or lack of reverence for God (Merriam-Webster). If you don't actually believe that there's a god, how can you insult or show contempt towards it then? Okay, you can say by not believing is showing contempt or lack of reverence. But when you don't believe in tooth fairies or Santa Claus anymore, are you trying to show contempt towards tooth fairies and/or Santa Claus? Or to the people who still believe in tooth fairies and/or Santa Claus?
I guess the theistic basic principles of this country has been abused to a degree where people forget that we also have another unifying nationalistic slogan (which supposedly becomes the foundation of this country as a nation), the Bhinneka Tunggal Ika: in diversity we unite.
It feels very utopic to talk about Bhinneka Tunggal Ika now. It sounds like a beautiful fictitious concept that only exists in a Victorian novel or something. Definitely cannot picture the way Indonesia works as a nation now. I constantly ask myself this: Why is it so wrong to be different?
Will there ever be a peaceful way to solve religious conflicts or differences in this country? Will there be a safe way to control poisonous and dangerous mass organisations like FPI? It's not that I reject the idea of a religious organisation; it's about how they use violence, break the law and violate human rights in the name of a religion.
There was a case of an atheist civil servant in this country who posted a status saying he didn't necessarily believe in god. And that didn't end nicely for the man, of course. He was then arrested, convicted committing blasphemy, got fired and then spent some time behind bars. I have lots of atheist friends, and I don't think they ever said it out loud. And that was before the FPI-era; before people can hurt other people just because they pray differently with the majority. Before churches in Bekasi were forcefully closed down. Before Ahmadiyahs got killed and trapped in their own mosque or houses. Before Buddhist temple was asked to take down their Buddha figure on top of THEIR temple's entrance.
The fact that Indonesia still considers blasphemy as a criminal conduct is beyond my comprehension. By definition, blasphemy is the act of insulting or showing contempt or lack of reverence for God (Merriam-Webster). If you don't actually believe that there's a god, how can you insult or show contempt towards it then? Okay, you can say by not believing is showing contempt or lack of reverence. But when you don't believe in tooth fairies or Santa Claus anymore, are you trying to show contempt towards tooth fairies and/or Santa Claus? Or to the people who still believe in tooth fairies and/or Santa Claus?
I guess the theistic basic principles of this country has been abused to a degree where people forget that we also have another unifying nationalistic slogan (which supposedly becomes the foundation of this country as a nation), the Bhinneka Tunggal Ika: in diversity we unite.
It feels very utopic to talk about Bhinneka Tunggal Ika now. It sounds like a beautiful fictitious concept that only exists in a Victorian novel or something. Definitely cannot picture the way Indonesia works as a nation now. I constantly ask myself this: Why is it so wrong to be different?
Will there ever be a peaceful way to solve religious conflicts or differences in this country? Will there be a safe way to control poisonous and dangerous mass organisations like FPI? It's not that I reject the idea of a religious organisation; it's about how they use violence, break the law and violate human rights in the name of a religion.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Bear and Dora
There are only a few things that I wanted to say in this post. First, I was scrolling up my timeline when I saw one tweet that said, "You are not a photographer. You're just a teenager with Nikon." I laughed and retweeted it, thinking that this tweet pretty much sums up a series of bitching, with a friend, about how hipsters here are 'wearing' expensive SLR as part of their costumes. Come on, kids that haven't grown out their teen pimples slinging a $1500 camera on their skinny (or fat) necks? You gotta bitch about that, surely?
Second, hipsters aside, I am thinking of getting a SLR myself. I think I like to be able to explore the world of lights and wonder with better media (i.e. better lens, more expensive camera). Although recently, I managed to take a few good pictures of my cat with my generic digital camera. Bear, that's my camera, is a Fujifilm FinePix SL300. It's ok, but sometimes it performs quite crappy in a low-light condition.
A friend, who has just recently acquired the title "professional photographer" once told me that oftentimes it's the person behind the lens that matters. I hope she's right. And I hope I'm one of the people who matters. And now we've come to the last part of the post, the pictures. I titled this series as Dora: the secret cat model (yeah yeah not catchy, whatever). She's my 5-month-old Persian kitten, insane and playful, and recently just found out that she liked to be photographed by me. I, of course, prefer to photograph her than working. Enjoy :)
p.s. sorry for the shitty layout. blogger doesn't allow me to arrange them the way I want them. or maybe it's because I'm shit and I don't know how to. if there's someone out there reading and itching to tell me, please do. spanks!
Second, hipsters aside, I am thinking of getting a SLR myself. I think I like to be able to explore the world of lights and wonder with better media (i.e. better lens, more expensive camera). Although recently, I managed to take a few good pictures of my cat with my generic digital camera. Bear, that's my camera, is a Fujifilm FinePix SL300. It's ok, but sometimes it performs quite crappy in a low-light condition.
A friend, who has just recently acquired the title "professional photographer" once told me that oftentimes it's the person behind the lens that matters. I hope she's right. And I hope I'm one of the people who matters. And now we've come to the last part of the post, the pictures. I titled this series as Dora: the secret cat model (yeah yeah not catchy, whatever). She's my 5-month-old Persian kitten, insane and playful, and recently just found out that she liked to be photographed by me. I, of course, prefer to photograph her than working. Enjoy :)
p.s. sorry for the shitty layout. blogger doesn't allow me to arrange them the way I want them. or maybe it's because I'm shit and I don't know how to. if there's someone out there reading and itching to tell me, please do. spanks!
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| 1/8 F3.1 |
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| 1/13 F3.1 |
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| 1/13 F3.1 |
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| 1/8 F3.1 |
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| 1/8 F3.1 |
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Writing a fiction
I haven't been writing fiction since a long long long long time. Yes, I realise I said too many longs, but it is true. My fiction writing has expired and if it's waiting for a resurrection, it may never happen. I just don't have the patience anymore. I don't have the energy. I think I'm a shit writer (although it may be related to my lack of self-esteem more than anything). I can't focus long enough to make a long consistent story. Even in my blog post I tend to write things all over the place. No coherent plot or structure. Or at least that's how I see my own writings.
This is why I still admire and applause anyone who has succeeded in publishing their fruits of labour, their tears and blood, their love and despair, in a form of a book...no matter how shitty their books are. What first needs to be appreciated is the effort, and then later the work. If it turns out these books are really bad, I can just throw them into a dark corner where they will only gather dust and be forgotten, but at least I have appreciated them by reading them first before I throw them into the waste land where all shit books go. If it turns out the books are brilliant, I will start recommending them to other people. The more people know about them, the better.
Though everyone need to remember that when you are publishing something, sending your ideas to the big bad world, delivering your thoughts to the hungry (and sometimes vicious) readers, you might get reaction(s). Sometimes it's good, sometimes is horrible. That's just the way things are. You want to become a trigger, or at least that's what my writer friends said about their works, so be prepared to get burned, or to shine through with that fire burning inside you.
So this post goes to a friend who has succeeded conquering all barriers to give birth to what he considered his work of art. I salute you and I hope this is just a start for something even more incredible in the future.
This is why I still admire and applause anyone who has succeeded in publishing their fruits of labour, their tears and blood, their love and despair, in a form of a book...no matter how shitty their books are. What first needs to be appreciated is the effort, and then later the work. If it turns out these books are really bad, I can just throw them into a dark corner where they will only gather dust and be forgotten, but at least I have appreciated them by reading them first before I throw them into the waste land where all shit books go. If it turns out the books are brilliant, I will start recommending them to other people. The more people know about them, the better.
Though everyone need to remember that when you are publishing something, sending your ideas to the big bad world, delivering your thoughts to the hungry (and sometimes vicious) readers, you might get reaction(s). Sometimes it's good, sometimes is horrible. That's just the way things are. You want to become a trigger, or at least that's what my writer friends said about their works, so be prepared to get burned, or to shine through with that fire burning inside you.
So this post goes to a friend who has succeeded conquering all barriers to give birth to what he considered his work of art. I salute you and I hope this is just a start for something even more incredible in the future.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Jakarta, I don't think I miss you
Jakarta is the city that you either love or hate. I moved out of Jakarta a year ago. The city made me ill, metaphorically and literally. But I have been spending some time back. A friend offered me a place to stay. It's in one of the executive apartment complexes in the city. Super fancy, super modern, superficial.
The first and most annoying part of staying in this place is that I can't actually walk to the apartment building from the main entrance. The main street that leads to the building apparently can only be taken when you are in a vehicle, i.e. a car. You can't even take an ojek (motorbike taxi) into the complex. So, if you're not in a car, you have to find a footpath that goes under the bridge/street and find your way to the building. I haven't found the footpath. I got away walking with walking on the forbidden street. Although, when I reached the end of the street, a security guy stopped me and asked whether there wasn't any security guard on the entrance. I said no. That was a lie.
This reminds me of how back in the days, rich people made 'special' entrance and paths for their servants. It was supposedly to prevent the master(s) from seeing the servants walking about doing their jobs. The rich didn't want to know about what happened in the servants' quarter. They didn't want to be associated with the low(er) class's activities. I thought it was all in the past and that modern people in modern city like Jakarta wouldn't do such thing.
There are high walls around the complex. There are poor people behind the walls. A slum area sits next to the executive apartments, separated by high walls. Reminds me a bit of Gaza. How walls can divide people.
Well, the truth is there's a real segregation in this city. The rich is pampered, while the lees fortunate is cast away. They are hidden behind high concrete walls, under a bridge, in dark corners and alleys where one might get stabbed or raped and no one would have come to help. And I guess the worse part is how so many people just choose to be oblivious because it suits them.
The first and most annoying part of staying in this place is that I can't actually walk to the apartment building from the main entrance. The main street that leads to the building apparently can only be taken when you are in a vehicle, i.e. a car. You can't even take an ojek (motorbike taxi) into the complex. So, if you're not in a car, you have to find a footpath that goes under the bridge/street and find your way to the building. I haven't found the footpath. I got away walking with walking on the forbidden street. Although, when I reached the end of the street, a security guy stopped me and asked whether there wasn't any security guard on the entrance. I said no. That was a lie.
This reminds me of how back in the days, rich people made 'special' entrance and paths for their servants. It was supposedly to prevent the master(s) from seeing the servants walking about doing their jobs. The rich didn't want to know about what happened in the servants' quarter. They didn't want to be associated with the low(er) class's activities. I thought it was all in the past and that modern people in modern city like Jakarta wouldn't do such thing.
There are high walls around the complex. There are poor people behind the walls. A slum area sits next to the executive apartments, separated by high walls. Reminds me a bit of Gaza. How walls can divide people.
Well, the truth is there's a real segregation in this city. The rich is pampered, while the lees fortunate is cast away. They are hidden behind high concrete walls, under a bridge, in dark corners and alleys where one might get stabbed or raped and no one would have come to help. And I guess the worse part is how so many people just choose to be oblivious because it suits them.
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