Archive for 2014

Doa dan pengharapan untuk seseorang, entah untuk yang terkasih dan tersayang atau sebagai keharusan sosial, punya kedalaman dan makna yang berbeda-beda.
Beberapa doa disampaikan dengan tergesa, mengucapkan lirik atau mengutip frasa, tidak begitu dipikirkan.
Beberapa doa maknanya agak lebih dalam; seluruh kata yang disampaikan benar dimaknakan, dan kata semoga punya urgensi yang lebih dalam.
Segelintir doa maknanya melebihi kata yang diucapkan; kedalamannya tidak bisa dijabarkan.

Saya berdoa untuk seseorang; saat itu rasanya seperti doa tersebut disampaikan untuk kebaikan orang tersebut.
Tapi saat doa yang tahun sebelumnya diucapkan dengan sekenanya (atau mungkin tidak sama sekali) lalu tahun ini diucapkan dengan sungguh-sungguh, sepertinya saya tidak bisa mengklaim doa tersebut disampaikan untuk kebaikannya.
Doa itu untuk saya, dan alasan saya berdoa adalah egois, seperti alasan kita semua berdoa, sesungguhnya.
Kita sungguh-sungguh mendoakan seseorang yang kebahagiannya mempengaruhi kebahagiaan kita. Karena itu beberapa doa diucapkan tergesa, beberapa dimaknakan, dan beberapa sangat dalam.

"Semoga orang yang kebahagiaan hidupnya menyenangkan saya, selalu dalam kondisi yang baik"

During my last holiday trip I spared a time seeing a recital of piano, cello, and shakuhachi.

The shakuhachi player played this solo shakuhachi piece. It was titled Koku (literally translates as "Empty Sky").

He talked about it a bit before he played the piece. He talked about the character "Ko" that made up the title "Koku" and what it meant. He talked about a Stephen Hawking episode about Big Bang and about the non-existence of universe before the big bang, and how difficult it is to grasp the concept of what predates the big bang; to understand the nihilism, the absence of time, the absence of being. He said that the character "Ko", though can be literally translated as "empty", has a meaning that to him is as difficult to grasp as the "pre-big bang" concept.

He said he was going to play the piece, that it would be ten minutes long, and he advised us to not pay attention to the piece and instead let our minds wander. He said to let the music fade into the background, that some music is meant to be enjoyed that way, and it was one of them.

Right before he blew the shakuhachi he told us, "Okay, I'll see you in ten minutes."

I don't know if I would've liked the piece as much as I did, had it not been preceded by such a talk. What I know is that the piece was one I enjoyed the most, and one that struck me the most, and the one that I was talking about when I wrote in my journal the moment I went home.

First it was a dull waiting game,
now it's turned into an ugly blame game.
"The ball was in your court. It was yours to play,"
unbeknownst to us, while we were playing a ping-pong game
of blame,
the ball was gliding, slowly, out of court,
out of play.

Tentang tanggal 23.

Mungkin tidak akan bisa ada kali kedua romantisme masa muda dibagi untuk ratusan ribu manusia, diusung dalam propaganda luar biasa.

Jika pengalaman kemarin harus dirangkum, kurang lebih seperti ini:

Rasanya asing, dan intim.

Bukan mengutip slogan kemarin walau mungkin memang tanpa sadar sudah terdoktrin, tetapi memang entah kenapa sensasinya sama sekali asing, padahal elemen-elemennya begitu intim.

Kalau harus dimisalkan, mungkin seperti mencampur bahan makanan yang biasa dimakan setiap hari tapi saat menyuap ke mulut rasanya tidak dikenali.
Sampai saat ini pun mulut tidak berhenti mengecap, mencoba mengenali sensasi. Tapi masih saja, asing dan tidak teridentifikasi.

Sambil masih mengecap-ngecap mencari sisa-sisa yang intim, ini pertanyaan untuk saya:
Saat sudah tidak ada yang dilanjutkan, apa yang akan dilakukan?

Some portion of my current desktop. Been playing with the GeekTool app tonight.

I know, quotes on your wallpaper is kinda cheesy, but I always have my heart stolen at the view of vast, empty, solitary ocean.
And as much as I admire the greens and blues and turquoises of the sea, nothing compares to the feelings evoked by the most solemn shades of grey - the muted colour is to me the warmest of all.

A short story I made once upon a time, quite a long time ago.
There's something about sadness that is, to me, so captivating. Why else do we like to read about disappointments, heart breaks, unrequited loves, about losing, missing, and longing?
Sometimes one looks more beautiful with sad eyes and bitter smile. Sometimes words string together better when triggered with aching pain. Sometimes solemn scenes and somber colors makes the most enchanting views.
And most of the times, their impressions last the longest, speak the strongest. Dwell in your heart the closest.

I did a reread on an essay yesterday night:

It is funny, the essence of the essay itself - the message that it tries to convey, I don't necessarily agree with; however, it forces me to think a lot of things I previously take for granted. A friend of mine told me to read this a good while ago - what it speaks of still stays with me until now.

Emma Goldman, the writer, was an anarchist-feminist, and the essay speaks very strongly against marriage. By no means am I trying to promote the anti-marriage campaign by sharing this in my blog, neither am I subscribing to her values and her views, I just strongly urge all of us, especially Indonesian women, to read it just to gain another perspective, to hear some counter-arguments, to understand things that are so often ignored in our society, since marriage is seen as merely another sequence of life, a natural step to take after meeting a desirable partner.

Do we ever consciously add 'getting married' as another box to check in our life's bucket list? As in, really thinking about it as an option instead of an obligation? Or is it a box that has always existed without you remembering having jotted it down, which existence you've never questioned, instead you just assume it's something you'd want to do without ever sparing your time to think 'why'?

THE popular notion about marriage and love is that they are synonymous, that they spring from the same motives, and cover the same human needs. Like most popular notions this also rests not on actual facts, but on superstition. 
Marriage and love have nothing in common; they are as far apart as the poles; are, in fact, antagonistic to each other. No doubt some marriages have been the result of love. Not, however, because love could assert itself only in marriage; much rather is it because few people can completely outgrow a convention. There are to-day large numbers of men and women to whom marriage is naught but a farce, but who submit to it for the sake of public opinion. At any rate, while it is true that some marriages are based on love, and while it is equally true that in some cases love continues in married life, I maintain that it does so regardless of marriage, and not because of it.

You'd perhaps cringe as you read it as the contempt of marriage is very overwhelming throughout the essay (bear in mind it was published in 1914, during that time the idea of marriage is very men-centric and patriarchal), but entertain the thought. Just like Aristotle said, it is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.

Just finished this book, and it seriously sent chills to my bones.
I've been wanting to buy this book for quite a while, but never found the book in the bookstores in my city (and too lazy to purchase online). Finally found the book in Balikpapan (Balikpapan!! Shame on you Bandung!!) and bought it.
Seriously, guys, if you haven't already, you should read this book. I can't recommend this enough. This book makes it straight to my all-time favorite list. Orwell is such a genius. Seriously. doubleplusgood.

I had you chalked up as the kind
who likes the shores for its waves and sands
I never knew you had it in you
to adore the gentle ripples
or the way the sea ends where the sky begins.

I like the occasional silence in our conversations.

I like the gaps in between the all the talking. I like the brief rest after my last sentence. I like sensing you frantically searching for the next word to say, the next question to make. I chuckled a bit at that, sorry. It is a bit awkward, I wish you brought that up. So I can brush it off easily. It's okay, you know, sometimes I like it.

It is hard to stop loving the ocean.
Even after it has left you gasping, salty.

-Sarah Kay

I like having spaces, distances,
here and there empty,
rooms spared for later, maybe.
And I like being rest assured
that I'd left some seats vacant,
four-by-fours void,
as if bared under some kind of
yet undefined expectation.

Turns out, I'd like it more
furnished, and used, and set
close together.

Because what's coming
will always manage to find its own spaces:
under the blanket,
over the little space left
between shelves and ceiling.

It doesn't need to be spared some vacant seats,
or rooms void.


October 2014, from now on it'd be just me and my mom.
Suddenly the spaces become overwhelming. Suddenly the idea of living crammed, six-by-six shared by four, seemed so comforting.

I know.

Eight in the evening is by no means a time late enough to be thinking things. You shouldn't be second-guessing.
There's sound of engine roaring. Then halting. Gate opening. You'd probably expect footsteps approaching. Front door banging. Stranger barging in.
Brief silence, followed by sloppy footsteps stumbling over bags of trashes you're piling. Plastics scrunching. Panicky footsteps approaching.
Which takes you back to expecting door banging. Heavy breathing. Low-pitched mumbling. Stranger barging in.
But no. Silence is what's following. And it is rather unsettling.

You'd lose to curiosity. Leave your couch. Walk to the front. Take a peek.
A cat is rummaging through your bags of trashes.
And your gate is closed, well and fully closed.
A car is parked right across the road. Someone is chatting happily to your neighbor.

You shouldn't be thinking things. You shouldn't be second-guessing.

I am thinking it's a sign
that the freckles in our eyes
are mirror images and when we kiss
they're perfectly aligned

And I have to speculate
that God himself did make us
into corresponding shapes
like puzzle pieces from the clay

And true, this may seem like a stretch,
but it's thoughts like this that catch
my trouble head when you're away,
when I am missing you to death

When you are out there on the road
for several weeks of show
and when you scan the radio
I hope this song will guide you home

They will see us waving from such great heights
"Come down now," they say
But everything looks perfect from far away
Come down now, but we'll stay.

Iron and Wine - Such Great Heights

Travel Footnote (2)

Ijen, August 21

Ninety minutes after midnight we started the hike. We could not quite make out the landscapes, the sceneries surrounding us through the dark. It was a long, ascending walk - followed by quite a steep descend to the crate, going through the sulphur smokes to catch a close glimpse of the famed blue flames.
We were climbing back up, racing against the sunrise to the top of the mountain. Luckily we were in time to catch the dawn, the emerging light, the dark phased out by the blue and oranges of the sun against the sky.

The most beautiful pictures were the ones only our eyes can capture, it was true. As fascinating as the pictures of sunrise and dusk were, nothing can quite capture how beautiful the morning at the peak was; how the sun casted its lights and shadows in all the right places, how we squinted our eyes at the glaring brights, how golden the lashes looked when bathed with all the lights, the dawning realization of looking down and seeing clouds - how we were at such height.
And actually feeling the gradual warmth taking over the chill over our quivering bodies, our cold skin - how the higher the sun went, the warmer our bodies became. It was quite a reward.

Malang, August 21-23

Another long hours of drive, exhausted but content with the hike. At night of the 21 we arrived in Malang. I wasn't strange to the city - went there once years ago.
It seemed like the rest of the day passed by so fast - sleeping and eating away all the exhaustion.
On 22 we went to Batu. From the museum to the secret zoo, it was a day well-spent. The attractions were well-designed, decent and the contents were not at all boring. One would think that a day visiting museum of vehicles and a zoo of, well, animals, would be quite a cliché, but it was not.
Malang was a pretty enviable city to live in; great food, nice places, even pleasant weather. We had a full-day to explore the city but I didn't think it wasn't enough. When my nephew is old enough to see things and understand, I'd love to have a vacation with him and the family there.

Surabaya - Bandung, August 23

Our schedule was packed and by the morning of 23 we made our way back to Surabaya to return the car, and then board our 15-hour train ride back to Bandung. We smelled all sulphur-y courtesy of Kawah Ijen (it was hard to rid the smell off the clothes) and we had certainly seen better days physique-wise, but despite all the tiredness and the sleepy-ness and for some of us, the cold and illness, we were content with the days spent.

It was quite a week. I wish I kept track of the cities we passed, the places we went to, the foods we ate and the conversations we had. I wish I had a travel journal. Weeks later and the best I could make was travel footnotes: a blur recollection of what happened in merely brief narratives, leaving out details (some of them I forgot, the others I intentionally leave out).
I did remember though, that it was a mightily fine week, an enjoyable voyage, a fantastic travel. Quite an epilogue, closing out my book of college life.

With the friends. Those were the times to remember, and y'all were a part of it, so I'd keep you close in my heart, I guess.

Travel footnote (1)

Surabaya - Trawas, August 19-20

Cities I've never been in, two hours apart yet worlds of difference between: Surabaya's scorching, punishing heat to Trawas' shivering chill. Enter cozy bed, nicely parquetted floors, warmth trapped inside the folding glass door. Board games, barbecue, free-flowing food; if we were guilty of any deadly sins it was surely gotta be gluttony. I'm sure we'd be forgiven though, we're yet to start the journey. This was the inaugural feast.

Baluran, August 20

Six hours trip on the road. Perhaps it was early days excitement, we didn't sleep much on the way. We chatted, bought snacks, played silly games, made math problems out of car plates. The mundane became interesting: mistyped billboards, hilarious truck arts, and wiggly road markings easily became talking point. Self-navigating our way through the phone apps and watching where the green boards' arrows were pointing. It was one of the easiest six-hour road trip I had, truthfully.
Six hours and we made it there.

It was another day of scorching heat - with a mix of dry wind gently brushing the skin, though. The animals were having a lazy day in Baluran - aside of deers, peacocks, birds, monkeys and chickens we didn't see much of them. Nevertheless we were blown away by the savannah, the vast, dry land, the solitary trees, the evergreen. The scenes were picturesque.
It was a scene so feral, so wild, so inhumane. The emptiness, it felt almost surreal, almost as if it had never been touched by mankind before. Strange, foreign, intriguing. Most importantly captivating.
The beach was also nice - most beaches are nice, though. We didn't spend a long time there - mostly because we looked like a bunch of misfits leaving home their beach gears, instead coming there all long jeans and hiking shoes. The only thing we did at the beach was confirm that indeed, men do not have much power at this land - we lost a battle with a group of monkeys. Us a group of seven, versus monkeys. They had been eyeing up our lunch, wickedly lured us to bring our lunch to their territory, and successfully robbed us of it. It was genuinely scary. Monkeys 1, human 0. What human superiority?

As the sun was setting and the day was getting progressively darker we made our way out of Baluran. Two friends joined in, braving the night on their motorbike. Next stop would be Ijen.
But not before a few bites first.


Aku rindu saat dimana antara kita, ruang terdefinisi
dalam sudut, garis,
bingkai-bingkai pintu dan jendela,
sebuah meja.
Dimana cakap memantul-mantul
memukul dinding, kemudian mengendap -
mengisi celah, menyekat jarak.
Di dalam ruang ini tidak ada satu yang keluar. Semua tinggal.

Sekedar presensi itu dangkal,
kalau ruang kita dibangun
tanpa sudut, garis,
tanpa pintu dan jendela,
tanpa meja.
Semua menyelinap keluar,
percakapan yang hambar,
tawa yang datar,
tak ada yang tinggal. Kita tidak punya ruang.

From the poetry book I read (and posted about yesterday) I came across one titled Brother last night; and today is my brother's birthday.
I almost swear I saw his name printed in between the curves of letters, the spaces distancing the lines. I squinted my eyes and I could almost see his image formed in peripheral vision, his features distinct.
I quiver through the words as I read, his resemblance growing more and more uncanny. This is him. This is about him.

Happy birthday my dear brother.

There have never been any seatbelts on your side of the car.
You have always known the better magic tricks.
You told me once that I was just the first draft,
and I'm inclined to believe you, but you came
with a lot more pieces to assemble and
Mom and Dad never got the manual. 
You are my favorite stick of dynamite.
You are the opposite of a rubber band.
There are so many things I would tell you
if I thought that you would listen
and so many more you would tell me
if you believed I would understand. 
I hope you know that you were never meant to wear my shadow.
In fact, I'm the one who always steals your shoes.
But is that my sweatshirt you're wearing? It's okay, you can keep it.
I won't tell your secret. In fact, it really does look better on you. 
[Brother - Sarah Kay] 

Poetries are best savored in silence, or over white noises, true.
But living room scene with footsteps and chatters, clings and clatters, the television noise, while not favored,
is teasing my senses in an interesting way.
How they are so loud at first, then slowly fades into background noises,
to white noises, faint and distant. But you're not going anywhere.

Transforming the ugly ducklings,

Going for simpler and cleaner look. This blog decidedly needs some refreshing - change of layout to bring back my writing mood again.

It's a bit messy and uninformative right now, but maybe a few of online crash courses and I'll be fine to do some little CSS changes to tune the look into what I had in mind. Or maybe I'll give up and settle for this layout.

In the meantime, I really appreciate the fact that some people somehow still find their way to read this blog despite the serious lack of publicity. As much as I am a fan of solitude, knowing that I am not thoroughly neglected is a very good feeling. Thank you guys and keep coming here :)

When everything failed to build, eventually there's only guilt
left within the ruins, tidbits of things
we tried to make something from.

To me it's the least I can get,
the scraps I feed myself off.

To you, it's the thinnest of threads you can't cut,
your own personal brand of karma.

First off, let me start this by saying selamat idul fitri dan mohon maaf lahir batin untuk teman-teman semua. Kata-kata yang gak aku ucapkan selama hari raya itu sendiri, kecuali secara personal ke beberapa teman terdekat. Aneh memang budaya meminta maaf di hari lebaran ini. Di satu sisi, momen yang diciptakan hari lebaran itu sebetulnya sangat, sangat berharga. Kata maaf yang diucapkan di hari lebaran seperti kulminasi dari usaha 'pembersihan diri' yang sudah kita lakukan selama sebulan, sepanjang Ramadan. Refleksi diri menyatakan dalam diri kita masih banyak kesalahan, maka kita meminta maaf di hari lebaran. Sebetulnya cukup puitis, kan. When you think about it, it kinda hits you how profound the moment of Eid actually is.
Di sisi lain, aku punya stance yang cukup skeptikal juga mengenai momen ini. Skeptis dengan kata maaf yang rasanya maknanya jadi tidak lebih dari jargon lebaran. Semua kata-katanya seperti hanya mengambang di permukaan. Tidak dalam. Padahal dipikir-pikir, kata maaf yang mengambang itu masih lebih baik daripada yang tidak diucapkan. Setidaknya ada niatan.
Jadi mungkin walaupun terlambat, dan walaupun rasa-rasanya maafku pun masih sebatas di permukaan, rasanya usaha perlu dihargai dan akhirnya pun perlu dilakukan. Jadi mohon maaf, teman-teman. Dan semoga dengan maaf yang saling kita tukar, pintu-pintu kesempatan dibukakan.

Welcome to the world of indecisive people.
If you don't know how dreadful the act of making decision is for an indecisive person, well, trust me it's quite dreadful. Y'know the paradox of choice: we all seem to think that having more choices can increase our satisfaction. In fact, we're often less satisfied with our choice when faced with more options. It's just simpler living with less options to choose from - not having to wonder the things we left off and we could've had, and if they would've been the better option. Though having the luxury of options is something we always crave. Weird, this world we live in.

I wonder if we will ever know how it feels to live in peace, thoroughly. No unpleasant feeling of turning on the TV to news about ongoing wars and invasion, not having to mourn for civilians killed either by rockets flying or some parties shooting down planes crossing borders. Not having to hear racism, sexism, and intolerance practiced in our surroundings. Just world peace, people being able to make compromises and settle in differences.

I pray, everyday, may peace be with all of us. And I do believe that even people who do not believe in making prayers, they do hope, everyday, for peace to be here with all of us.

Mourning the ongoing war over Gaza, the MH17 traffic incidents, and so many terrible things that unfortunately are still the ones we hear on evening news.

I know, love isn't a quantifiable matter. It's not measured by flowers, nor presence, nor words, nor presents. You just know when it's there - filling the air, in its own way apparent.

I felt overwhelmingly loved yesterday. And it wasn't merely because of flowers or presence, of words or presents. It's about all the faces from the ones I've been seeing so often to ones I've longed to see for long. And the fact they're all joining me in celebration, happiness on their faces upon seeing me in person. It's about either the quick or lengthy reunions, hasty rendezvous, seemingly too short conversations. It's about the thought spared in spite of absence, the love that transcends physical presence.
And it only adds to the already abundant joy that there were so much flowers and presence, words and presents.

Dear friends, loved ones, thank you very much and be assured that your kindness in joining the merry of my day I will never forget.

Bandung, July 12 2014
with sore legs and already crappy make up, but incredibly happy heart,

Fathina Diyanissa, (S.Ds!! Haha)

There are times in your life when the need to look back in the past is so overwhelming, you just can't help it. The need to reminisce, to revisit old memories. It comes crashing, and is so urgent that suddenly you find yourself scraping to find the key to open the box you have long closed. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you're not supposed to do it, that it isn't right, but still you're desperate to reopen the box. To reread the conversations. To rewatch the movements, the particular moments.

Most of the times it's wee hours. And slow-beat, mellow music is playing faintly in the background.

And you either feel terribly relieved when whatever little left is finally released. Or you dig the hole deep when all the long-forgotten feeling overwhelms you in a heartbeat.

You know though, it's a risk worth-taking.

You either spend the night sleeping the tightest it's ever been, or being wide awake, and thoroughly sad and drowning in it.
Most of the time, though, the following morning your shoulder feels a little lighter and the world a little brighter.

"I'm always sad."
"Are there certain thoughts associated with the sadness?"
"No, the sadness is under the thoughts. It's like when you're on a camping trip, and it's really cold, and you put on extra socks, and an extra sweater, but you still can't get warm, because the coldness is in your bones."
"Do you hope to get away from it?"
"Not anymore. I just hope to come to peace with it."

(Quoted from humansofny instagram account)

Selamat malam di bulan Juni,

this post is entirely dedicated to express my deep, heartfelt gratitude to all the people who has spared their time for a little thought and prayers, and even lend a hand in helping me earning my bachelor degree. If you're reading this, odds are you're one of them. So thank you, I sincerely thank you. It meant so much to me, even the littlest things.

To be honest it doesn't sink in yet, the fact that I've finally reached the finish line of my college life. What lies ahead, I still don't know. Yet. The road's still long. This in itself already felt like an achievement to me, a victory of some sort, but I know in the grand scheme of things, this is maybe just another little step; hopefully in the right direction.

What's ahead is big, and maybe a bit scary to think of, but in the mean time I'll just sit back, relax, enjoy this little moment of happiness, and just hope that this joyous feeling of mine reaches all of you as well. I'll just be content, and give myself a pat in the back. Afterall, I deserve it.

S.Ds today, June 19 2014. Thank you once again.

Been ages since the last update in this blog.
Excuse my absence, I'm on the brink of my college life. Wish me the best of luck so the academic progress goes as planned and I can graduate by this midyear. Thank you folks.

Meeting old friends is funny. You notice how much they have changed, but at the most important thing they really don't change one bit: they still are the people you are deeply fond of, the people you always love to hang out with and spend your time with. Their lives have differed greatly to yours, yet conversation still flows nicely. The commonness never quite disappeared.
In some ways hanging out with old friends is like driving a car or riding a bike; you never forget how to do it.

Sometimes I wonder if I am being too detached in friendship. This is part of the reason why I don't particularly enjoy social media: I feel like I am too detached. I don't do a close friendship on a daily basis. I am admittedly not the type to reach out to friends, or initiate rendezvous. I forget birthdays, and when I do remember I am rarely the one to text at 00:00. I don't post pictures, I don't tag friends. Sometimes I am afraid that my friends, particularly old ones with whom I rarely get in touch with, feel like I don't appreciate them. Well, I do. The times we do get in touch and we do hang out together, I really cherish it.

And to me, once in a while goes a long time. Always.

Evening folks.

One thing I believe is that to be content in living one's life, one should accept that living is about making compromises.
As much as we would like to live every kind of life we want to have simultaneously, we are bound to make choices. At some point we are bound to let go of something, in order to achieve another. As we shift another gear in the ride of our life, some things will naturally be left behind.

Some of the choices are naturally easy, some are more vexing. The latter we like to lament over, because isn't it a very human thing to think, 'what could've been'?
We revisit the things left behind, the things we lost in our lives. Thinking how it could have stayed, how it should have stayed.

It is inevitable, though.

Letting go, saying goodbyes, moving past.
How we cope with these is the important and defining moment in our lives.

Too much knowing is overwhelming; there's not enough of what we're wanting. A little bit of everything and everyone, texts flying around, faces popping on the map: driving on the roads, stopping by the restaurants, sleeping, having fun. It's sad when the one currently in front of you has also reduced himself into another face on the map; you're helplessly clinging on the littlest piece he has left, to no avail. Unless you're there, becoming another one driving on the roads, stopping by the restaurants, sleeping, having fun. To your relief, you're not, you'll never be, but then here you are, feeling lonelier than ever. Surrounded by the little bits of everything and everyone, seemingly many but none of them enough for you.

One can be fully naked and be a feminist, one can be fully-covered and be a feminist. One can be an unmarried, career-oriented woman and be a feminist, one can be a stay-at-home mother with three children and also be a feminist. It is wrong and ironic to create a certain branding on how a feminist should dress, behave, or make life choices when the essence of feminism itself is to do exactly the opposite: to free women from the pressure of having to adhere to general perception of how women should be in the society.
By nature, early campaign of feminism would see women who break this conservative brand of women's position in society as the icon of feminism. But it doesn't mean that we should expect all women to do just that; it's wrong to write off women whose life choices just happen to fit that conservative brand of women as anti-feminists.
We are blessed to live in the time when more and more concern are put into feminism; we're seen as equal to men, we're blessed with education, career-options, and we can continue to thrive in the less and less male-dominated world. Let's not fall in the same trap and unconsciously give a new "brand of women" we should adhere to. No life choice is inferior to other. As long as it's our own, as long as we don't let our choice be driven by the need to meet the standards set by others, every choice is just as respectable.
Respect the stay-at-homes. Respect the fully-covered.
Happy international women's day.


I am not really the type who celebrates birthdays but I really like how much pondering the day makes. Today I spent my afternoon alone, thinking about many things. Being comfortable in my own company. That's the way I like my day goes. Now that I think about it, I like February Eighteens afterall.

These are the things that passed unnoticed before the eruption - endured by himself within:
sadness overflowing,
bitterness he had to swallow and choke on, suffocating,
jealousy rendering all viewed through his eyes green,
a love unable to grow further than secretly admiring,
frustration building,
and anger slowly arising,
heating, boiling,

 "I think we live in a really interesting time where we feel like we have to make people look to the standard that's not attainable to anybody"

Whoa, I feel like I am soooo many years late in posting my previous post!
Lagi lihat-lihat tumblr teman-teman dan baca post ini ( dari temen SMAku. It covered the same issue, and I think she worded it way, way better than I did haha. Versi yang lebih lugas (because I am never, never good at being straightforward) mengenai opini tentang social media. Pay a visit to the post my dear friends!
TS Eliot once spoke of television as "a medium of entertainment which permits millions of people to listen to the same joke at the same time, and yet remain lonesome".

A very good article, and sums up everything I feel about Facebook (and other social networking sites for that matter).
I stay connected through Facebook, Twitter, and Path because I need the ease to connect with friends, obtain informations, and stay updated to latest news and trends. If not for those, I think I'd rather stay away from them. Lurking on social networking sites is like watching a parade of human vanity; at worst one consciously boasts about the greats that are happening in one's life, at best one just selectively shares moments of one's life and pick those that portray it as decent, happy and successful enough, because it's not good to share unhappy moments right?
But then it's precisely because of this that I think social networking sites are affecting us in a bad way; it creates envy, it makes us constantly jealous of other people's life and inevitably compare them to our own. It makes us become increasingly unsatisfied with our own life, but that's just because we don't know the things that people do not share; they're painting a skewed picture of how they live their life.

Isn't it weird that social networking sites that are created to make us feel connected, to me makes me feel the exact opposite; it makes me feel more and more disconnected.
But maybe I'm not wise enough to separate myself from envy and jealousy. I am not wise enough not to make comparison, not to make assumption.
Sometimes I think I am not mature enough for social networking sites.

I love this long moment when things, little things, are able to intrigue me a lot. I like this kind of movies and stories the most; the kind that showcases the baggage that each person carries in life and how we are so different, and yet so alike at the same time. It forces us to think, and momentarily takes us out from the self-centered life we are living in. The special moment when we think about other people's lives, and subsequently, the moment when we compare those lives to our own, and get startled at how much we can find the similarities, the ones way deeper than the obvious differences.

The many layers and dimensions, the intricate creature that we are.

The many façades.
The varying depth.
The different perspectives.

Human beings.
As much as we are the men of our own, we are the being that crave others' presence.

I don't understand, don't get upset, I'm not with you / We're swimming around, it's all I do / when I'm with you

Getting to know the life of the man whose music I immensely adore, the man who was apparently socially awkward, the man who loved poetries and paintings, the man who always seemed to be in love, one too many time perhaps; but the sound flowing through his fingers when he was in love is just simply beautiful.

The more I know about him the more enchanting his music becomes. Monsieur Claude-Achille Debussy.

P.S. sorry for the crappy instagram-ish picture......... lost the original one.

This is the least I can do for you, I am sorry for receiving so much and giving so little.

I like things that invoke sadness.
Is it bad that I like to be sad?
But sadness is fascinating, and things that make me sad are fascinating.
I like the depth of sadness; it's very deep.
And I like how it makes me conscious of myself; where the blood flows,
the subtle twitch of fingers and the feeling of lashes brushing against
skin when my eyes close.
And the length of time doubled, sometimes.
I like how spontaneous sadness dwells very deep in your heart, but for
a very short spell of time.
After that some other things will nudge you back into reality.
But that moment of sadness is refreshing, isn't it?
Draining, but refreshing at the same time.
It's funny.

I like to be made sad,

That your smile and laughter is so sincere, so contagious, perhaps
is the reason that you are always happy; I know I am not the only one
who is brightened by your happiness, and I know many people,
just like me, are always wishing for your well-being.

Just so you can continue to be happy.

Happy late-ish new year

First day in the year that I spent without thinking about assignments so it's my own version of new year!
Cheers to another year, cheers to the renewed hope and renewed spirit, cheers to turning the pages and starting anew, and cheers to the beautiful fireworks I missed and I'll look forward to for the rest of the year!!