tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-323507422024-03-13T15:56:17.743-07:00unexpected mirror before your very eyesKRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.comBlogger194125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-1013980816124561012018-12-31T20:22:00.002-08:002019-01-01T01:44:35.928-08:00From 2018, with love and kindness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Of some defining moments in my 2018, this one is my fave. And of course, just like so many others, this one also features my parents. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">It was a slow long weekend afternoon at our family home. Ibu was baking, the kids (we’re forever ‘the kids’ in that house) were watching Netflix, Ayah was out for his daily walk. Around 5 pm the phone rang, Ibu answered. It sounded like she was talking to Ayah, “...aaw poor thing! ...sure, they can use some cold drink and snacks? ...yes, ok, see you soon.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">She updated us right away, “Ayah met three lost tourists from Amsterdam nearby, they booked a house through a website but seems like they got scammed.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">There were three of them in their early 20s, two guys and a lady, with their backpacks, looking super exhausted. Two of them landed in Jakarta that morning from Bali and the other one from Amsterdam. They took a travel car to Bandung directly from the airport, hoping to check in to the house they booked and rest before trekking around Kawah Putih the next day. Turned out the house they booked and paid was a scam, and they had nowhere to stay for the next 3 nights in Bandung. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Ibu made them ice tea. Ayah brought out some jars of cookies and snacks. I tried to find some alternatives of hotel/home via app (every decent-affordable hotels are fully booked, it was a long weekend after all). Graz made some phone call to his Bandung-base friends to check if any if them have available space to rent. One of Graz’s friends who once spent a couple of years in the Netherland immediately said yes and came to fetch our guests, bless him and his wife. He said that they have a room with a queen bed but they maybe need an extra mattress, Ibu said he can take one of our’s. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Before leaving, one of the men very politely say thanks to my parents, “Your husband saw us looking confused on the street, and he asked what happened. You could just continue walking, but you stopped and offered to help. First you helped us to find the address, and when it didn’t work you offered us your home. We were just visitors in here and we didn’t want to bother anyone, but to be honest we were desperate. And I can’t believe that you just took us to your home and helped us finding a place to stay, we’re practically strangers to you. I really don’t know how to thank you, we owe you big.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Ibu, smiling in her fave Bali t-shirt, said, “You don’t owe us anything. Today it’s you who need help, and it’s us who help you. One day you will meet other people who need help and you will help them, that’s how it works. There have been countless of kind people who helped our family through our journey, and this is how we ensure that their kindness stays alive.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Ibu and Ayah just celebrated their 38th anniversary last week, my very own #relationshipgoal since as far as I can remember. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Happy new year, everyone. May we all be kinder, wiser, stronger.</span></div>
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KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-30974166149625827172018-11-17T21:29:00.002-08:002018-11-17T22:27:53.148-08:00Being all out in making our dreams come true is what took us here.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">I wanted to be a fashion designer when I was a kid. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">I remember reading an article about Ghea Sukarya in which she was praised for her ‘very Indonesian’ design, her attention to details, and how she makes our nation proud in the international fashion scene. I wanted to be like her: making pretty outfits, dressing up her models at the backstage, directing photo shoot. She was so cool, #lifegoal kalau anak sekarang bilang. I even took some sewing lessons! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">For a good couple of years I’d alter my outfits myself, when I was ‘inspired’ I’d make my own top or dress from scratch. I can’t claim that those outfits are masterpieces </span><span style="font-family: ".applecoloremojiui"; font-size: 17pt;">😆</span><span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;"> But I was always so proud wearing them, wouldn’t give a damn what people think. I MADE IT MYSELF, LAST NIGHT, WHILE YOU WERE SLEEPING! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Long story short I finally shifted my interest to other types of job (#gemini!!), including dentist, architect, lead vocal in a band, and aerobic instructor—that’s for another time. But until today, every time I sew a button or hems, I’d remember that childhood dream vividly. And I’d be reminded the many surprises life has for us. Maybe that’s why I smiled so happily in this Me-Altering-My-Dress-to-Appropriate-Length-for-an-Important-Meeting shot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">Fast forward to today: I’m not a fashion designer, but I never regret my sleepless nights working on dresses, using my Mom’s classic sewing machine (the brand was Singer, it has a balance wheel and everything ;)). It was an important part of my self-discovery journey in finding a profession that I really like today. In fact, I think being all out in the process helped me a lot to finally admit that “maybe this is not it,” before I move to explore my next dream(s). I rarely ask ‘what if’ because, although it makes me seem like banyak mau-that person who wants to try everything, I’ve given it a try. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">My mentor once told me “focus to enjoy and appreciate the course that’s served in front of you, don’t worry too much about what’s being cooked in the kitchen. Trust that the next courses will come at the right timing, and they will be great. We have the best chefs in there.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ".sfuitext"; font-size: 17pt;">And darlings, he’s right. </span></div>
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KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-9784534623295354222017-05-02T11:08:00.001-07:002017-05-02T11:08:14.514-07:00You still remember me.Or else you won't be here, on my page. Reading my thoughts, trying to understand them, even after so many years. <div><br></div><div>It's alright I sometimes think of you too. If you've grown. If you still detest capitalism. Or if you've seen now that it actually make sense. </div><div><br></div><div>(to be continued) </div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-72434308592164660572017-02-02T23:44:00.001-08:002017-02-02T23:44:30.539-08:00Timing is EverythingFour years after, the very same thought haunts her: On who does she want to be there on her last moments. When she'd be <i>really </i>alive. <div><br></div><div><div>And just like he did, she feels guilty as hell. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div><div><br></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-65602729714658353532017-01-12T08:57:00.001-08:002017-01-12T08:57:19.964-08:00"I love you too."Lately I've been having this thought: I wish I don't question so much. I wish I don't think too much. I wish I can just be honest and tell you. <div><br></div><div>But complication, and strong feelings, they make me nervous. Most of the times too much. They make me stop walking, talking, breathing. </div><div><br></div><div>They make me stop writing. </div><div><br></div><div>But I do.</div><div><br></div><div>(Love you too) </div><div><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-73990058550018797972016-10-05T10:17:00.001-07:002016-10-05T10:40:53.186-07:00What to say to an ex who asks too much<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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An ex has been sending me meaningless messages since I started posting Instastories for the past couple of weeks. Not sure why, messages would go around "you look pretty" or "you look happy" etc. <br />
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Last week he, being married with kids himself, innocently asked me <i><b>the</b> </i>question:<br />
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"Don't you want to be married, Krist? I promise it's going to make you happier." </div>
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This is not the first time for me, hello I'm in my mid 30s. But I think I want to record my answer here, not to start a debate or matchmaking madness (hello, I'm me) but just in case someone needs a reference to answer such a typical question.</div>
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<i>"You know, the young me used to listen and adore your point of view. But now, it's either you've lost your wisdom, or I've grown much wiser 😉</i></div>
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<i>I'm happy for you because you have found your joy, hope you can be happy for me in return since I've found mine too (without marriage). While the idea may sound odd to the old-fashioned ones, I'm turning down proposals because I am so not in a rush. I see the institution as something sacred, i want to go for it (if ever) because I've met a person whom I can trust and spend the rest of my life with--not because "it's time</i><i style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> 🤓" </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue Light, HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">You're welcome. </span></div>
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KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-19251856104085492502016-09-19T18:54:00.001-07:002016-09-19T22:27:45.194-07:00The Storm that I Believe InLet's not define this more than: that it's beautifully painful. Let's not discuss the longing, the what ifs, the whys. Let's not talk about the uncertainties because..<div><br></div><div>...well, they said life is short: pick your battles. So let's ignore the fact that our hearts beat a bit slower, a bit heavier. </div><div><br></div><div>And our eyes glisten. </div><div><br></div><div>(I miss you) </div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-55682237517788068302016-04-26T17:54:00.001-07:002016-04-26T17:54:16.682-07:00No matter how honest and warm I beganI always ended up chopping my letter into one normal-but cold, impersonal, template like-sentence. For millions reasons. <div><br></div><div>One for millions. </div><div><br></div><div>Maybe some day I'll tell you a story about what growing up means to me. And I'll listen to yours.</div><div><br></div><div>Till then,<i> I hope you're well and happy.<br></i><div><br></div></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-53004356378152553172016-03-22T09:26:00.001-07:002016-03-22T09:26:00.468-07:00Here's A New One for YouThey said people grew apart, but I never thought there will ever be a day like this. Those empty words and technicalities, the sky was bright but we were not. <div><br></div><div>Anymore. <div><br></div><div>You've changed and I wish you haven't. Because, yes I heard that time<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> heals. But in this case, </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><i><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">losing the pain itself </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">kinda hurts.</span></i></div></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-17491071136895312852015-08-29T19:33:00.001-07:002015-08-30T03:44:48.523-07:00The End of an Era: The "Fashionably Late" Era<div>I <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">used to think that being late is not that big of a crime, especially when the appointment is in Jakarta. </span></div><div><br></div><div><i>Sue me for being late, but do you have a big enough prison in Jakarta to lock almost 3/4 of its citizen? </i></div><div><br></div><div>However, my current and previous boss are very particular about being on time. Current patron always says, "Don't gimme 'macet' as an excuse because that's just poor planning." </div><div><br></div><div>So for the last couple of years I have been giving more efforts to avoid being late and to my surprise, there are a lot we can do. Negotiate meeting point, never underestimate traffic, think of alternative trasport just in case (gojek!), check national/city calendar because Indonesians like to do epic celebration in city centers, put all meeting in your calendar, include transfer time while planning your day...</div><div><br></div><div>And so on. </div><div><br></div><div>Don't get me wrong, I'm still late. But not that often, and it would be a 10-15 minutes delay as opose to the old 45 minutes late me. I even arrive early for appointments! </div><div><br></div><div>Another discovery as I'm transforming myself to this <i>miss not so late anymore </i>is, waiting for your appointment to arrive is painful. It hurts. You'd feel worthless and shitty. Ever see that scene in movies when someone is being stood up by a blind date? Yes, that. </div><div><br></div><div>Some of these people you're meeting would have the courtesy to text "really sorry, bad traffic", some of them would apologise as they arrive. But no matter what you'd still feel, slightly or clearly, sad. Them being late is an implicit way of saying, "You are not THAT important." </div><div><br></div><div>Call me a drama queen, but answer this: Will you be late to an appointment with Mr. President? With Bono U2? With Haruki Murakami? With Hilary Clinton? With Woody Allen? With Anderson Cooper? With Rupert Murdoch? With Ryan Seacrest? With Giselle Bunchen? Did I write her name correctly by the way? </div><div><br></div><div>No, you won't. Because: They. Are. Important. </div><div><br></div><div>I KNOW, these people (who are late) didn't do it in purpose, and they certainly don't think that I'm less important compared to Woody Allen (doh!). Whenever I'm late, making the person I had appointment with to feel worthless was never my intention. </div><div><br></div><div>But no matter my intention, my lateness would hurt them in various degree, while the truth is: To me they're as important as Bono U2, and I have this hope that I'm their Anderson Cooper. </div><div><br></div><div>So let's try and plan better to be on time, if anyone is to be late--don't let it be us. Be the better one, at least try. </div><div><br></div><div>It's just a good way to extend our respect to each other, an important one too. Now I truly believe that <span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">"Fashionably late" is no longer relevant, "On time and prepared," is the new normal. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">And you remember what they say, "A good start is everything."</span></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-26703068336923148642015-07-03T22:02:00.001-07:002015-07-03T22:02:44.039-07:00Takkan pernah yang terbenam diiringi sesat.Beberapa puluh malam dalam seputaran hidup mungkin berjudul "takkan pernah cukup." Biasanya matahari terbit dalam khilaf cita-cita untuk menyenangkan yang lain, dan terbenam diiringi sesat yang hanya indah sesaat. <div><br></div><div><br></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-1732801588173918372014-11-11T00:30:00.001-08:002014-11-11T00:30:07.129-08:00Kapan Berhenti?Hei kamu yang seperti hujan tiba-tiba? <div><br></div><div>Bumi yang adalah hati ini sudah basah, angin yang adalah nafas ini sudah lelah. Bukankah sudah waktu, matahari yang adalah <i>happy ending </i>itu bersinar? </div><div><br></div><div>Meski hanya sebentar? </div><div><br></div><div>Bahwa langit yang adalah kita itu akan kembali abu-abu, aku tahu. Bahwa bintang-bintang yang adalah awalan kita itu tidak seharusnya jatuh juga, </div><div><br></div><div>aku </div><div>tahu. </div><div><br></div><div>Hanya saja:</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">mungkin langit abu-abu yang muram tapi terpercaya dan bintang jatuh yang indah sesaat tapi selamanya teringat, akan lebih bisa kuiyakan. Jika hadirnya tanpa hujan. </span></div><div><br></div><div>Begitulah. </div><div>Begitulah. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-1022952867931853302014-07-14T18:27:00.001-07:002014-07-15T00:15:35.082-07:00Indonesia, Cinta dan Kita.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">Setidaknya ada dua hal tentang Anda yang saya mengerti karena: </span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saya juga, Pak. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saya juga cinta Indonesia, Pak. Walaupun saya memilih sektor swasta, walaupun saya jarang bicara politik, walaupun saya tampaknya lebih peduli pada berbagai macam warna lipstik. Pengorbanan dan cita-cita saya buat tanah tempat saya lahir dan tumbuh ini mungkin tidak seberapa bila dibandingkan dengan pengorbanan dan cita-cita Bapak. Tapi dalam dunia saya yang mungil, cinta ini sangat dalam. Tak pernah surut dan selalu berhasil membawa saya pulang, sejauh apapun saya mencoba pergi. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Ibu saya pernah bertanya, tidakkah saya merasa berhutang pada negara ini? Karena di sinilah saya lahir dan perlahan jadi dewasa, di sinilah saya yang dulunya hanya wacana tak bernama, perlahan-lahan menjadi rencana dan kemudian betul-betul ada. Saya ingat saya tidak bisa bersuara waktu itu, karena tercekat. Mungkin itu kali pertama dalam kehidupan saya sebagai orang dewasa, saya menyadari bahwa saya teramat sangat mencintai tanah air kita ini, dengan segala lebih kurangnya, segala baik buruknya. "Merasa berhutang" mungkin bukan ekspresi yang tepat, saya hanya merasa bahwa yang telah, sedang dan akan saya lakukan dalam hidup saya sedikit banyak didasari oleh rasa syukur serta cita-cita tinggi untuk kebaikan saya dan saudara-saudara satu Ibu Pertiwi. Dalam kapasitas saya, Pak, saya juga cinta Indonesia. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kedua: Saya juga benci kalah, Pak. Waktu di sekolah dasar saya adalah salah satu pelari tercepat di kelas III. Hanya ada satu orang yang terkadang lebih cepat dari saya, sebut saja namanya Krisna. Seminggu sekali, setiap hari Rabu sebagai pemanasan mata pelajaran olah raga, kami akan bertanding lari mengelilingi kompleks sekolah sebanyak 3 kali. Seisi kelas harus berlari, tapi yang menambahkan bumbu kompetisi di dalamnya hanya saya dan Krisna. Ada kalanya Krisna menang, kali lain saya yang akan menang. Suatu Rabu pagi sebelum pelajaran olah raga dimulai, Krisna menjegal saya sehingga saya jatuh dan kaki saya berdarah. Karena insiden tersebut saya harus istirahat di UKS, sementara Krisna melenggang tenang. Bertahun-tahun kemudian saya baru mengerti, tangisan meraung-raung pagi itu bukan disebabkan rasa sakit di kaki, tapi di hati. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saya ingat Ibu Guru olah raga yang membujuk saya membiarkan perawat sekolah mengobati kaki saya sempat bertanya, "Sakit sekali, Kristy?" </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saya menggeleng. Tapi waktu beliau bertanya lagi, "Sedih karena nggak bisa lari, ya?" saya mengangguk, saya sedih karena tidak bisa lari, saya sedih karena kalah. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Jadi kemarahanmu, keluh-kesahmu, caci maki dan hilang kendali saat berkomunikasi dengan publik sangat saya pahami, saya juga benci kalah, Pak. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tapi pagi itu Ibu Guru mengatakan sesuatu yang masih saya ingat sampai hari ini, "Ada yang lebih penting daripada menang-kalah dalam berkompetisi, yaitu caranya. Apakah kamu menang dengan jujur dan bermartabat, atau tidak? Apakah kamu kalah dengan jujur dan bermartabat, atau tidak? Menang atau kalah, apakah kamu mendapatkannya dengan jujur dan bermartabat, atau tidak?" </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Saat itu saya belum terlalu paham apa itu artinya "jujur dan bermartabat." Tapi seiring waktu saya mengerti bahwa (mungkin) jujur dan bemartabat itu berarti tetap rendah hati dan selalu ingat, baik menang atau kalah, bahwa di atas sesuatu yang tinggi masih ada yang lebih tinggi. Jujur dan bermartabat itu berarti berani mendukung pemenang yang bukan kita dalam sebuah kompetisi. Ibu guru mengajari saya bahwa: menang atau kalah memang penting, tapi yang lebih penting lagi adalah bagaimana kita mendapatkannya. Karena emosi kita karena kemenangan atau kekalahan hanya akan terasa sesaat saja, tapi usaha kita mendapatkannya yang mendefinisikan siapa kita yang sebenar-benarnya: jujur dan bermartabat, atau tidak. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Jadi Pak, itu saja. Saya juga cinta Indonesia dan saya juga benci kalah. Tapi di antara kedua hal itu, yang lebih besar dalam diri saya adalah cinta saya pada negara kita, cinta yang hanya akan saya berikan padanya dengan jujur dan bermartabat.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Semoga Bapak juga, semoga dalam hal ini, kita sama.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Salam, </div>
<div>
Kristy </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-39787361951996039022014-06-10T17:14:00.001-07:002014-06-10T17:15:53.832-07:00There Will Be Another Hundred Chapters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hujan turun sangat deras di satu pagi bersamaan dengan langit biru tanpa awan yang dipuja seisi bumi. Sebuah dataran yang tadinya hangat menampung ribuan rintik tak bernama menjadi satu danau luas dengan indah seakan tak bertepi.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tak bertepi seperti masa yang pernah terjanji, tak bertepi seperti mimpi yang akan terjadi. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bukankah jalan ini masih terlalu rumit untuk kau (atau ku) pahami? Jika menyelam bukan pilihan apakah berjalan juga tak boleh jadi ambisi? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Jika mata terpejam erat sehingga <b>aku</b> tak terlihat, apakah kau jadi sangat kuat hingga semua kegilaan ini bisa kau beri stempel <b>TAMAT</b>?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Danau indah ini tak bertepi, seperti masa yang pernah terjanji, seperti mimpi yang <b>akan </b>terjadi. Nanti. </i></div>
</div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-78725816801559867742013-10-31T09:32:00.001-07:002013-10-31T09:32:45.099-07:00Sweet dreams,and fear not tomorrow. Let it be another battle, just another battle to stay true. To stay who you are, the complicatedly honest and loveable soul you've been. <div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Next stop: Manhattan. </div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-54926962303992880012013-10-30T04:24:00.001-07:002013-10-30T04:24:59.886-07:00Give Me that Second ChanceAlthough this is really the twentieth, and you must have had enough. But I at least have not gone deaf and you are not yet speechless. <div><br></div><div>So I think we can still talk, can we not. </div><div><br></div><div>Explain, now would you please. What are you, again? And I. And us. And where should we go. </div><div><br></div><div>And why this place could not be called The One, at least not by us. </div><div><br></div><div>Explain. Now. Would. You. </div><div><br></div><div>Please. </div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-75101323391124803842013-10-28T10:19:00.002-07:002013-10-28T10:19:37.142-07:00Sometimes I Wonder<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...if you're still visiting.<br />
<br />
I wonder what would you say, if only you could, about the dying painter in me.<br />
<br />
"Paint more stories and poems," that usual line of yours. I oddly remember your tone while saying it, your expression. Your eyes won't blink and your smile won't be.<br />
<br />
"I'm serious," you would say.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
And I.<br />
Would laugh.<br />
Just a bit.<br />
And I.<br />
Would ask.<br />
For stories.<br />
And more stories.<br />
And poems.<br />
<br />
<br />
And maybe other reality.<br />
Other reality. With you in it.<br />
With you. </div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-57788063601882265732013-09-01T04:42:00.001-07:002013-09-01T04:42:40.833-07:00“Il n'y a de réalité que dans l'action. (There is no reality except in
action.)” ― Jean -Paul SartreThank you, I feel really really special today. <div><br></div><div><br></div><div><div class="f kv" style="margin: 0px; word-break: break-all; "><br></div><div class="f slp" style="margin: 0px; "></div><br></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-48449423255410573022013-07-08T08:32:00.001-07:002013-07-08T08:32:59.859-07:00Lambaian BaikAkhir minggu berakhir seperti cerita kita bercerita. <div><br></div><div>Berputar membentuk lingkaran yang tak pernah sama, gelak tawa yang berbeda, dan langit malam yang ribuan dan semuanya istimewa.</div><div><br></div><div>Ketenangan yang sangat singkat meski rasanya menyisa erat. Cukup untuk bertahan lima langkah lagi, cukup untuk tak manjawab godaan untuk berhenti. </div><div><br></div><div>Keinginanan sederhana setiap bangun pagi.</div><div><br></div><div>Akhir minggu istirahat seperti cerita kita mengambil jeda. </div><div><br></div><div>Ini hanya koma,</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><i>Dan ini kecupan ringan sampai jumpa.</i></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-65105530210116338892013-06-02T16:27:00.002-07:002013-06-02T16:28:01.597-07:00A (repeating) New Start <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The particular morning perfectly mixes frustration and a bit of excitement. Just a bit. Frustration in the little black dress, excitement in these red colored lips. A good bit that fades as the day goes by, as the sun sets with a promise of sweet nothingness--a long enough silence that ends with a beginning we are not too fond of.<br />
<br />
But that starting line will be <i>slightly</i> better than this one.<br />
<br />
<i>Promise. </i></div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-59157745207822391162012-12-04T17:02:00.000-08:002015-10-05T00:08:57.116-07:00Some of us are full of shit, some are plainly stupid. And the rest are just in love. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Time heals only some pains. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Time answers only some questions.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And there are dawns when we’re stuck with the unhealed
pains, hopelessly trying to crack the unanswered questions. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The unsettled mystery. Everything about you and me. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We’ll wait till the sun rises, till the silence disappears.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Till the honest darkness fades, till the eyes shed no more
tears.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We’ll loudly wonder where on earth is the absolute truth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">…but secretly wish to see only what we want to see, to
listen only what we want to listen, and to love only what we want to love. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">To trust only what we want to trust. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">If there’s any. </span><o:p></o:p></i></div>
</div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-1079618205475692692012-10-17T09:21:00.003-07:002012-10-17T09:23:51.107-07:00Witing Tresno Jalaran Soko Kulino<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Waktu adalah manufaktur cinta, katanya.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Katanya yang berkompromi soal hati. </div>
<div>
Katanya yang melupakan mimpi. </div>
<div>
Katanya yang tak (lagi ingin) mengerti. </div>
<div>
Katanya yang telah lelah mencari. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Katanya yang telah menyerah dan berhenti. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bukankah menua usia, membijaksanakan kita,</div>
<div>
harusnya? </div>
<div>
Bukankah melama jiwa, antar angkuh terlupa</div>
<div>
harusnya? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Belumkah belajar bahwa hanya ada dua realita soal Cinta: (1) Ada (2) Tiada </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kemudian diantaranya ada langkah-langkah bernama Usaha, Sabar, Maaf ... apapun itu. </div>
<div>
<br />
Tapi Cinta sendiri tidak diproduksi, dan Waktu terlalu sibuk untuk satu lagi mahakarya seni. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>(Dan esok pagi kita akan memilih untuk mencoba lagi)</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i>
<i>(Kompromi hati, melupakan mimpi, tak mengerti, tak mencari.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
<i>(Menyerah. Berhenti.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Sebelum hidup lagi setelah mati suri, suatu hari nanti. </i></div>
</div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-84002894031897807062012-10-01T12:52:00.004-07:002012-11-12T07:23:16.087-08:00And then you kissed me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Dini hari yang mengeruhkan wajah tak cukup gelap<br />
Hati masih sendu dan belantara waktu masih senyap<br />
Langkahmu disampingku cukup untuk pagi yang ini<br />
Pagi yang ini, setiap hari.<br />
<br />
<i>Never let me go.</i><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-89831028625795142792012-08-29T17:52:00.001-07:002012-08-29T17:54:24.526-07:00Sueño.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We dream, always. We said we don't but we always do, we just forget. But this one, let me capture this dream. Which has not sparkling stars and loud laughters--nothing more but blurry images in calm wood tone colours.<br />
<br />
But there were us and hugs. And an ultimate tranquillity, around and <i>in </i>me.<br />
<br />
<i>The kind of beauty which shall not be forgotten. </i></div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32350742.post-20214048885693401532012-08-29T17:34:00.002-07:002012-08-29T17:35:50.262-07:00Why do I think so much of the past. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Maybe because it's done. It's predictable, it's controllable. Everything. I know how it starts, how it ends. I'm familiar with the mistakes and the good calls I've made. I know all the pain and I'm sure that I'm strong enough to deal with them because I, otherwise, wouldn't be in my room right now, writing this piece. The past has a good portion of <i>certainty</i>, something that the present and future are lacking of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Uncertainty, apparently, is something too intimidating that I need to constantly distract myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Autumn has started and I wish I was there.</span></i></div>
KRISTY NELWANhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03530529474341398196noreply@blogger.com1