Monday, November 29, 2010


and you need not to climb the mountains to prove your love. It is THAT simple.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

POSTCARDS: We're classy like that

I'd ask my good friends their home address and people around us would throw me a look that most likely means "Home address? What are you, a 50 years old?"

Even my mum who is in her early 60s would most of time ask for someone's e-mail address when she goes personal. Personal e-mail address, for sure, since all of us have at least 2 e-mail address, don't we? Personal and official email addresses.

God I sounded so ... high-tech right there.

So. I understand how that "you're weird" glare happened, I don't look like I'm in my 60s, that's for a start. Moreover, I live in 2010 and an active user of technology. I'm one of those people who use smart phone for crying out loud, I'm connected 24/7.

But when it comes to my personal relationship, I go further than just messaging each other on Facebook or mentioning each other's name on Twitter. Yes, public display of affection could work to some points, but I really think these special people deserve a lot more than just "Hi hun! How's it going, I miss you," on one of my tweets and wall posts.

To find a nice postcard when I'm in a nice place is one. To get a funny-memorable birthday card is another. Or to hand-write a letter, just like we used to in the old days. Put stamps on it, write their name and home address.

Go classic, I know. It requires efforts, I know.

They deserve it, I know.

And (surprisingly) these people never ask why, let alone throw me a weird glare, when I asked them their home address. We understand each other: In showing our affection, we're classy like that.

Oh, last but not least, it always gives me such mind blowing joys-warm feelings in my heart-to reach the bottom of the page and move my pen to write:

Love you loads,

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

THIRD: The Forgotten Angle

"We all judge."

Said that inspiration of mine. Arguing with this person is exhausting yet liberating at the same time. Always intrigues me to go deeper than my previous thoughts on any subject from war to love, from life to death, family, friends even as far as discourses on abortion.

Anyway. Yeah, when I accused this one for being judgemental, that's the answer I got: We all judge.

How do we judge? Easy. There must be protagonist and antagonist, right? The good and the bad guy. White and black. Victim and criminal.

We love to stand up for the victimized ones. The weaker ones. The ones in pain. And oh how do we hate those criminals. These people deserve to be punished, to be humiliated, to be murdered. Character assassination at the very least, through whatever medium available be it social networking site or 1O1 conversations, it's pretty easy nowadays.

I must admit that I did so too, repeatedly. Although I've promised myself not to be judgemental, I'd skipped once in a while, which when some reminders would occur and I'd be reminded, sometimes the hard way: That there are two sides to a coin.

Talking to some of my students about creative writing, I always recommend them to write their story from the third person's perspective. Pretty weird since I rarely do so, at least both my books were from the first person's perspective *grin*. But seriously, telling a story from the third person's perspective, omniscient point of view to be precise, helps us maintain our ability to see things as objective as possible.

I did a desktop research about this and found out that actually there are not that many books written using the omniscient point of view. Some would argue that Tolstoy frequently went omniscient, also from our time, JK Rowling in writing Harry Potter series. Huge debate about this, let's not go too far. Maybe next time.

Back to see things from the third person's perspective. Being objective. Putting ourselves in someone else's shoes. To at least try. Who knows...probably the antagonist did not do it in purpose, the bad guy was probably tortured doing what he was doing, the criminal would probably chose to be victimized instead, if only he had the luxury of choosing.

And how black is brave enough to show its intensity, at the risk of being disliked.

Might not work out. After all, the reason why there are not that many authors go omniscient is because it is not easy to play God that way. But even if in the end we still judge, I believe that trying to see things from the third person's perspective would help us lessen our anger.

Which means less wrinkles. Tempting, hmmm?

Sunday, November 21, 2010


I recently had an argument about this word. As often as we say it, 'trust' is actually not as simple as it sounds. Read an interview with Angelina Jolie where she said that she never trust, she finds trust as a bizarre concept.

And I strangely agreed (that 'trust' is a bizarre concept).

However, in that last debate about it, my opponent shut my argument with a fine line, "If we don't trust how would we live?"

The person had a point. I came to think how I want certain people to trust me-and I feel it's only fair that I trust them in return. No matter how.

So. Yeah.

Trust me now, don't ask me how.

"Cause baby I'm a fool who think it's cool to fall in love." -Melody Gardot

Saturday, November 20, 2010


Shit happens, they said. After some very ... entertaining couple of weeks I've decided to protect my twitter account.

For a very simple reason:

*yes, I'm not telling you. Got piles of work to do, that's why*

But really, you gotta try to give it some thoughts.

Thursday, November 18, 2010


Busses, cars, motorcycles, people. People walking on pavements, people sitting on benches, people chatting over the noisy sound of Jakarta.


Traffic jam, humid weather, the obvious taste of polution as you breath in. The odd mixture of hope and despair, tears and laughter, beginning-and whatever comes after. That warmth you long for never get to reach your heart before you have to let go: exhale.

You hear those steps, you chant those plans: your many dreams, a reality and ones in between. Those uncertainties that you couldn't count... Red, yellow and green.

Green light, the miniature of what we're all looking for: Chances. In a place where almost every soul hit each other, careless. Beautiful skin, wonderful face, crunchy voices, heartless.

[Yet in this corner I still love.

Perfect enough, perfect enough.]