Another Hundred Years


He can still feel the warmth, so it cannot be it. The sigh, so deep and heavy, but it’s there. So, it can’t be it.

He just caresses her slowly, make sure she feels comfortable. It might be his last time, but he never wants to believe. Their time hasn’t enough yet, has it? Why can’t he count every minute they used to have now?

Her eyes closed, but whenever he whispers, she opens up again. Smiling, as if she wants to ensure him that the world hasn’t ended for both of them.

They just sit around in the backyard, the place where the laughter used to fill the air surrounds them. It’s all quiet now, accompanied by heavy breathe belongs to her. And the silent sigh that heavied his heart.

“I used to grow lily there,” her skinny finger points at one spot.

“And I always thought you fool because flowers don’t grow in our kind of soil.” Soil so dense without airholes for the vulnerable root to spread her gentle arms. Yet, she tried, while he’s just all grumbled.

“Yes, but I succeded with bougenville. Such a strong flower, indisposable and always refuse to surrender.”

Just like you, he adds it deep inside his heart, as his mouth is tightly shut. He doesn’t want to imagine what will happen if the lips of his even slightly shiver. He might cry.

The summer breeze caresses their cheeks, their hair, whisper the spirit alive in his thinnest body.

“We will live. For another hundred years. For another decades of fights. For another months of grumbling. For another minutes of laughing.”

She smiles.

Smile that always ends to a laughter. It’s summer, when one’s allowed to laugh. The time when the goddes of happiness shares the blithe.

In the clear blue sky, the bird rips apart the clouds, force them to make way to him. Only one small bird.

“Yes,” the lips of his shivers a bit, “we will live for another millenia. We’re always gonna refuse to surrender and tear down to another pitch of those dark valleys.”

He grits his teeth, “we will survive this game and let our spirit crashes them.”

“Crashes their darkness.”

He looks, surprised and amazes. If one smile can lead into another laughter, will the dimmed light of a candle turns into bright shimmering sun?

He smiles. Whispering to her, “yes, all you have to do is close your eyes, now.”

Thus, he cries. As he always knew he would.


Battlefield of Women



Trains at work hours are crazy. Then, the government company adds fire into it. That’s what we, Indonesians, called KKW. Kereta Khusus Wanita or female-only section in the train. The main reason was right, but it appears gathering women in one place is approved science of mistakes.

Lily never knew this one day will be hell out of a day. There she stands up in the train platform, as usual. Listening to music from her smartphone, just as another day. And just as every single day, she commutes from home to work in the KKW.

Her reason is pure and clear, she just doesn’t want to be harassed by some stupid horny guys who don’t even know how to push their social activities with other women. Total pathetic. They can’t get laid, then they feel it’s just right to splash his sperm to any woman’s butt. I mean, they might not even see the woman’s face.

And guess what, it’s exactly another reason to blame onto woman’s outfit. They actually decide to choose what women should wear and let the harassers excuse themselves of behaving like an animal.

You see, the solution doesn’t come up very nicely, but it appears to be the only solution. Instead of taking serious act to the harassing case, and teach men to disclose their desire into another healthy activities, something that doesn’t need to humiliate women or send women into the cage of decided outfit, they came up with this, KKW.

And other people, who don’t know what to do, just blurt out another impossible solution; whole women should go to KKW. To your information, there’s only 2 KKWs’ coaches of total 12 coaches in the whole train. And the women passengers of train like about 50% or more of the total passengers. In short, quite a number.

That’s what Lily had to face every single day. Whole bunch of stress and anxious women is definitely not a good sign. It’s not even a sign anymore, she already proves it. Every day! Lily watches almost each of them hurriedly goes into the front line of the queue, like a soldier prepares in the avant garde of war.

Well, she must be prepared, too.

First, she takes off the earphone, she doesn’t want it to be ruined, honestly. She puts her backpack to the front side of her body. Oh, this gonna be tough. She lashes out a big sigh, pull herself together. Here comes the train, here comes the second-hand Japanese train rolling down in the Indonesian railway in 2017.

The train is coming. Slowing down to the very front edge of the platform. Lily starts to push her way into the front line, but no luck. Instead, she gets a mean glare of few women in her way.

Oh, she would never try to get on fight with one of these women.

Train stops!

The screaming and yelling starts to swell up the air of train station.

“Awas! (1)”

“Hati-hati, dong! (2)”

“Ini ngapain, sih?! Cepetan masuk! (3)”

Lily shuts up her mouth, instead. It would be nonsense to argue in this kind of situation, but some women just can’t help it. Too much energy sends in their mouth’s nervous system, she guess.

She pushes more, it takes a lot of energy and motivation drive to actually accomplish a challenge so early in the morning, but she got to. She doesn’t want to be late for work. Why didn’t she just choose the cab, you say? It’s the beauty of living in Jakarta, the capital city of Indonesia. The centralization of citizen has gone up to the very next level. Everyone thinks the same way, Jakarta is the only way of getting money for living. It means traffic everywhere you lay your eyes down.

It’s either not an option or a very bad option.

Someone pushes Lily. She staggers, loses balance for a while. But, she’s okay. It’s just the first stage of losing humanity phenomenon. She just has to step back in. “Stay put!” someone shouts and smack one of her eye with an elbow. Lily gasped. She felt dizzy and her left eyes feel burning.

Groaning hurtfully, she press her eye with her both hands. Does anyone feel sorry? Maybe, someone feels it, but definitely never helps her. Instead, this seems one of the chance to get rid one of the competitors. Lily can’t think of anything anymore and just let her body being pushed around.

She falls down right when the train’s door closes. As the train moves forward, she feels that the time has stopped just a minute or so. And she actually thinks it’s pretty nice.

Few women who choose not to get into the battle, approaching her and sends the words of sympathy. She smiles and said she’s okay, because you know, what is her choice? Bitching out to the innocent people? Well, not her way of life.

She stands up. The railway extending across the rocky road seems distant. And the exit gate up-close seems warm and comforting, whispering the soft voice to come home into the her safest sanctuary. What should she do now after she loses the battle?

One by one, people start to come and fill the train platform. It’s as if the former train never comes through the station. Lily stares each of them blankly. It’s another battle coming. Should be she in or out?

Notes :

(1) Watch out!

(2) Be careful, you!

(3) What are you doing?! Hurry up, get in!

Merdeka di atas Kertas


Tujuhbelas Agustus tahun 1945

Itulah tahun kemerdekaan kita (1)

Lagu itu berkumandang hingga langit pagi yang memucat. Dimana-mana, riang gembira semua menyanyikan. Mereka berangkat pagi, biar libur, untuk merayakan kebesaran bangsa, yang pada tahun 1945, tepat 72 tahun yang lalu, berhasil melepaskan diri dari kolonialisme yang menguruskan anak-anak bangsa itu.

Aku, sebaliknya, terlelap nyenyak di tempat tidur. Bukan, bukan karena tidak merasa kebahagiaan atas keberhasilan luar biasa itu, hanya tidak bisa larut dalam euforianya. Adzan Dzuhur berkumandang, baru aku bisa membebaskan diri dari pengaruh kuat rasa nyaman di tengah gumpalan lembut kapas-kapas yang sudah bertransformasi menjadi barang laknat peruntuh adrenalin itu.

Gontai, aku menatap rumah. Rumah itu sudah kokoh berdiri, mungkin beberapa bagian masih kusut masai, tapi ia berdiri tegap. Tanpa bendera. Apakah itu akan melanggar ketentuan negara? Yang jelas, sudah melanggar kode etik bangsa.

Aku pikir, seharusnya aku merasa bersalah. Tapi, tidak.

Merdeka itu apa, ya? Sekelebat kemudian, aku sudah masuk lagi. Belum, aku belum merasa begitu. Muram aku melihat seonggok kertas-kertas bisu. Kertas-kertas simbol birokrasi. Digerogoti oleh tikus-tikus pengerat yang haus materi. Sudah lapuk maknanya, bangkrut oleh ketiadasetiaan manusia antar manusia.

“Bayar segini dulu, baru bisa diurus,” kata-kata itu selalu kudengar, dari kiri, dari kanan, depan-belakang. Tidak habis-habis.

Suara sumbang itu mulai jarang terdengar. Tapi, kemalasan dan kelunglaian birokrasi masih nyata. Materi sudah tidak lagi dikuras, sekarang batin jadi sasaran. Katanya, zaman sudah berubah dan birokrasi sudah bebas korupsi. Nyatanya, tikus-tikus masih bersarang, sulit sekali untuk diusir karena sudah membangun liang-liang yang berparalel rumit.

Rumah ini belum berpemilik. Baru suara-suara tanpa kekuatan hukum saja yang merdu membuai. Tapi, kertas-kertas, pengikat sesungguhnya, simbol perkawinan antar rakyat dan penguasanya untuk rumah itu, belum terjadi. Sama saja, kau tinggal, dengan menyiapkan koper. Sewaktu-waktu, kau bisa saja ditendang dengan alasan-alasan kertas.

Kertas-kertas busuk. Dengan itu saja, manusia mudah sekali dipermainkan. Atau mempermainkan.

“Udah, laporin ke polisi.”

“Percuma, bukti-bukti kamu nggak kuat.”

Suara-suara, nasehat, usulan, tidak ada yang memberi solusi. Polisi? Apa mau mengurus masalah yang tidak jelas macam begini? Tidak ada pidana, tidak ada kejahatan, hanya dua manusia yang tidak bisa saling percaya.

Asas kepercayaan. Mungkin masih sedikit sekali yang berhasil terikat dengan asas itu. Sebagian yang lebih besar, lantang terbuang. Tak berhasil mengikat. Tak berhasil diikat. Asas keikhlasan. Itu lebih rumit lagi. Saat stres bertambah-tambah, asas itu lenyap dalam cerutu gerutu yang mengepul.

Tujuh belas Agustus tahun 2017, manusia belum merdeka dari kertas-kertas. Pernikahan harus diikat kertas, sewa-menyewa perlu dibelenggu kertas, nurani tewas di bawah kertas.

Suara wanita itu kabur saja dalam benakku. Ia menjelaskan guna dari kertas-kertas laknat itu. Dua jam setelah adzan Dzuhur, baru aku sukses merdeka dari rasa engganku sendiri. Enggan berkutat dengan realita yang sama sekali jauh dari indah.

Wanita itu masih berkicau. Ia menjelaskan prosedur, ia menjelaskan tata tertib. Keteraturan, dibuat-buat atau tidak, dia perlu. Tapi, yang dibuat-buat, hanya menimbulkan kekacauan tak kasat mata.

Aku mengangguk. Setiap kali ia menetapkan titik dalam kalimatnya, aku mengangguk. Seperti burung perkutut membangun sarang. Memang, sarang itu penting, makanya manusia rela manggut-manggut. Mau saja bersikap seperti hewan. Mungkin hewan lebih bermartabat, karena ia siap melepas nyawa untuk apa yang menjadi haknya. Dengan bertarung. Dengan berjuang.

Atau mungkin hanya aku yang jadi kasus dimana manusia kalah dari kertas.

Hari kemerdekaan bangsa Indonesia, hari lahir konstitusi yang disepakati rakyat, tidak bisa membuatku gegap gempita. Merdeka itu belum kudapat. Merdeka itu masih jauh dalam pikiranku. Sekarang, urus tanah saja dulu. Tanah yang harusnya jadi anugerah dari Tuhan, tanah yang hadir tanpa syarat, tanah yang kemudian dipaksa manusia untuk mengikut mau mereka.

Dan itu saja yang bisa ditawarkan realita. Tapi, tak apalah. Indonesia masih begitu hebat dalam merasionalisasi dan meredakan stres dengan cara mengalah. Realita itu masih membuat kita menunduk-nunduk di tengah kepungan global. Tapi, ia realita.

Realita selalu jauh dari indah, tapi dia tinggal menemani. Dia setia, tanpa syarat, tanpa kertas-kertas pengikat. Mungkin jauh lebih baik dari angan-angan memabukkan, tapi tak pernah berkawan setia.



Dirgahaya Negara Kesatuan Republik Indonesia

Perjalananmu masih panjang untuk mencapai kesempurnaan

Tapi, yakinlah rakyatmu akan terus menemani


Catatan kaki :

(1) Lirik lagu “Hari Merdeka (17 Agustus 1945)” oleh H. Mutahar (lirik lengkapnya mari lihat di sini)


How Long I Abandoned My Own Ship?


We can’t possibly be a good captain of the ship, if we always abandon the ship. This, at least I understand. Managing time, but especially managing the mood and inspiration, is the hardest part of writing activity.

You can stare the blank page of the paper (I’m really reluctant to mention Microsoft Word, which is the program I used to write, because it’s not romantic at all) for hours, nothing came out. Maybe you can force it, just to see your ship started to sink into the deep dark pit of a mess. Messy writing is the worst of all, although I still like to pull them through. I just want my blog to be filled with something, please don’t judge me!

But, lately, I did it again, I abandoned my own ship. I hope there are people who will be willingly read my blog, but it’s impossible if I updated it too long. As if the captain is lazing around, let the ship go really slow. No one can handle that, I can’t, at least!

I have one big rational reason for this. Lately, I’m busy preparing my website, please visit me here, too. If you care to know, just click this image, you will be directed to my new website right away!

Kiddy Reader Logo

It’s new, I bet it’s a little bit rough. It’s not an excuse, just me stating the facts. Hehe. Okay, I tried to find any excuse, big fails!

I will explain a tiny bit about this site. It’s for children mostly, the content is children-friendly-something, but it’s actually very useful for the Moms and Dads in selecting books to read for their children. Yep, it’s a site contains reviews of children’s book. Also, I put the special page for children representing their creativity. I really want the children to have fun in my site!

And, of course, for anyone who loves to read children’s books, I’m inviting you to review your own choice of book. There is the free page for guests, too. In case you have an urge to write your own reviews. Or maybe for parents who just find the great book for the children and wanna share to the other children all over the world, I am welcoming you to write!

Well, back to the topic. The abandonment is really have a good reason, right? I hope you think it is. And if you don’t, you may silent forever. L.O.L

Now, I’m back to the game. Hopefully, with a big steel anchor of powerful wills and a giant whirling propeller to drive me further, I will be able to handle few blogs in one go. Yes, I know, hope will never be enough without the actual action.

So, here we go!

For the Sea, For the Men

The ship is floating calmly. Through the wavy stream of dark blue sea. The jewels shine brightly, flared through the invisible molecules of air. It was beautiful. It was more than beautiful.

“Sail!” cried one of the crews. Few of other came down to the deck, reach the edge of the end one. Three big men, together they pull the steel anchor so heavy. If you watch them closely, you can feel the muscles came out, as if they will explode in any minute. Their crystal salty sweat running along their tough jaws.

It was an awfully heavy duty. You can’t guess it from their big smiles, though. Always, they looked happy. Every moment, they looked satisfied.

So, what a sailor without a beer?

Every night, they will gather around in one long table, laughing, making a joke, sometimes one silly joke that made them fight in the end of the day. Tonight, there’s no different from the other nights. Their smiles become wider and wider as the gold liquid running down their throat. Brings the ultimate happiness no one couldn’t possibly understand.

“Puh!” sighed the biggest man of all, gleamed by fulfilling desire. He can’t meet his lady until the next three months, he decided to be satisfied only with beer. Maybe also a lovely tramp in the next harbor they’ll visit. Maybe.

“Are you ready to be smashed by big waves, fellas?” He utters nonsense, but no one really cares. The calm night is the beer night. The calm night is the least sensible night. Only joy, no overthinking silly small things that hinders their only amusement at sea.

“Don’t say such a foul things, Big Bob! Bring a bad luck!” protest the other big guy, only by the width of his body.

“Scaredy-cat!” cried Big Bob, but then he bursts out a laughter. No fight tonight, he decided, no hard feelings whatsoever. It’s only the first night. For the next three months they are stuck to each other. Good feeling or not, they must deal with it.

There’s this new guy. He’s skinny, just like any other guy who deal with the ship and the sea for the first time. They are always skinny to begin with, then they just grow bigger as they face the unforgiving challenge at sea.

And, he’s nerdy. The glasses surely makes him look smart and important, his shirt is buttoned up nicely. Just like the bureaucrats he hates. Big Bob stared at him. He, who focuses his eyes down to the notebook. What is the use of the notebook at sea anyway, Big Bob can never understand.

He stared, but doesn’t get any respond, while he’s sure that the boy feels the eyes that pierce every inch of his body. “Hey, little fella! What’re you doing down there?!” The little skinny boy do sit quietly in the corner of the barrack. Hopes to stay unnoticed.

Big Bob kinda surprised when the boy lifts up his head. He thought he would see a pair of submissive eyes, maybe, really maybe, a scared ones. Instead, the boy stares back at him so fiercely. The dark stone inside his eyelid just stand still. Funny, he just can’t fight those eyes.

The boy resigns his eyes, focusing them to the notebook again. His finger pins one pencil, which dancing around in the rhyme of the skinny bony fingers. One young sailor, only a bit older than he is, sneaks out behind him. Without any warning, he quickly snatches the notebook. One, he seems shining with victory, one minute away, he can only frowns.

“What is this?” his hand stretch out to show the notebook. Only a scrape of many confusing lines. Big Bob observes the silly meaningless lines, then observes the thin expression by the overly thin boy.

He doesn’t get mad, only spying the situation with his dull eyes. Then, with a pair of thin lips, he grumbles, “you can give it back if you are satisfied.”

The young sailor lift his shoulder, “nothing’s interesting anyway. What a foolish drawing.” He throws the notebook to his face, smacking it. The thin boy looks disgusted, but nothing more.

His dark stone is a endless cave Big Bob will never understand.

…….to be continued


I am Honored

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What are the honorifics meant to be?

To honor someone, of course. To let people know that you respect them. And maybe, further, to let them know you care or love them. Somehow, it was used for older people. In Indonesia, it was also used to unknown person, no matter what age.

Lately, there’s a slight change about all those things. The culture of using honorifics started to be ignored, especially in mentioning government officials. Even the president itself. (Back in the old days, government officials or figure called “Bung” in Indonesia. It’s an honorific that was being used in revolutionary movement in Indonesia, an honorific used, but never lose the meaning of equality among people.)

Some people think that it’s a moral degradation, that they who leave the use of the honorifics are lacking respects toward other people. But, are they really?

I acknowledged that some people do leave the honorifics to make fun of the certain person. To show that they do no longer respect that person. But, it’s not the same of every people that I know. There are people use it, hm… I don’t know their thoughts behind their action, but certainly in their writing, even if they don’t use the honorifics, they never mean to mock the people they talked about.

True, the removal of honorifics is not Indonesian culture at all. Moreover, we will use special word to describe the most respectable person. One of the word is “beliau” which is used to impersonate “you,” but only for the special person, such as national heroes, the important figure as president, etc.

Furthermore, we even used three different word to impersonate one word, only because it’s meant to be used by different subject. The example is, if God said it, then it will be Tuhan berfirman (similar to commandment, but any sentence said by God, then it’s “firman”). If it’s being said by The Prophet, it will be “sabda” which actually has the same meaning as firman. And if the ordinary people said it, then it will be the usual, “say”, “tell”, or such. In Holy Koran itself, I found it was just the same in every different subject, which is “qul” (meaning : said). There is no difference whatsoever, whether for God or the disbeliever.

Honorifics translate into different kind of words in Indonesia. Come into many terms, I lost the track already.

Back to the slight changes in the Indonesian culture about this honorifics things, I guess it was influenced by culture acculturation. Like in English language, if it’s meant “you,” then it will you for every person we meant. Maybe a little bit different if it meant for God, which is I usually heard as “thee.”

I really agree about people to honor other people. I would think it’s great to show that either. But, to pinpoint the exact word to do it, I don’t think it’s necessary. Okay, but not necessary, let alone be forced. Honor someone is meant to act, to do something good and respectable. It’s the action that actually we need to point it out whenever we want to show respect.

However, to respect also about how we heard someone else’s opinions or wants. So, of course what really matter is considering what other people want. For example, if they do want to be called by honorifics, it won’t hurt to use honorifics, too. It’s like you accepting their subjective opinion even though it’s different for yours.

Well, the last but not least, I am honored enough if you’re willingly read my blog 😉




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Run. Run.


Every nerve in my entire body scream. If they had lung, they would take a very good use to it. I kinda grateful, they don’t. My whole body shivers of the tickling sensation suddenly rush into my blood. The energy suddenly came uninvited overrule the logic of my brain. Sensation so ecstatic, yet horrifying.

This house is empty, but there seems every sound decided to make an assembly. Converged in the center of the room. The ticking sound of clock, the whirl of summer breeze wind, the leaves brushed each other, the faint of people’s voice from distance might be so far away.

Have you ever done yourself consecutively 48 hours sleepless? It felt like every pore of your skin wide open, accepting everything that crawls over it. Like a fanatics accepting each and every word from their heroes. No need to filtrate, they just believe.

And their brain became meaningless. Only instincts.

I close my eyes, absorb every sensation, every sensory, my brain has magnetized them all. Built them up inside my mind, create one big fuss of tornado. I want them to stop, I want them to stay. I love them, yet I’m afraid of them.

Water will calm them down. I feel like floating, walk thoughtlessly to the bathroom. I splash my face with the transparent crystal water. They are purifying the lost soul. Wash every dirt, every germs of life. “I gotta do this,” the sound of whisper so loud in my ear. “I am the chosen one.”

I am the chosen one.

They tell me that I am special. They tell me I am the chosen one. So, I gotta do this. I will be the hammer of the God. The messenger of the world that has been so corrupted. The bag pack is ready. It is only a simple bag pack. Just like me, we are sharing the resemblance. At one glance, no one will recognize us. They kept passing by, never care, took no notice. Don’t you think it will be the day that everyone understands us? That we are matter. That we are valuable.

“Come, my friend. We will be one.”

To Sarinah(1) we go. To consign the commandment of God people started to forget. More so, they started to forget God. How come I forgive such a sin?

It feels like floating, I can’t feel my leg. I can’t feel anything but big fuss of tornado attacking my mind. Blinding my vision as I come into the van that take me to the location. The sacred place we chose to execute the God’s will. They told me so, I will just believe them.

My eyes wide open. I found myself in the middle of open street. Big road of Sarinah. Everyone is finally looking at me, consider me, acknowledge me. They are running around frantically, policemen surrounded me and my only friend. Two persons, that’s all you need to bring out the ruckus.

I feel my pulse beating like crazy. My heart is thumping out. Under the big wide open sky, the sun shine upon me like the enormous endless spotlight. The policemen, they’re trying to stop me.

Don’t they understand? I don’t want to be stopped. Nor be forgiven. I will be forever in your mind, stuck like a parasite that invade your nightmares. I want you to be scared, I want you to remind me, forever.

God, make me yours. Make me matter. 

Footnote :

(1) At January 14th, 2016, two people attacked Sarinah, Central Jakarta, Indonesia, terrorizing people with suicidal bombs and gunfire.

Our Playground, My Friend

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Our playground is invisible. We will go across the virtual path that seems endless. Shaking hands with someone who doesn’t have any eye, or any mouth, or even any hand. But, we do shaking hands.

Night is getting older as we speak. We reluctant to go home, why should we? Living here forever, making out with oblivious mind who goes a long way to never land. Life can’t never be this sweet. As ignorant as we, as blissful we came to be.

Night is getting older, but our playground as bright as a pastel blue, painted beautifully across the sky. The clouds seems bashful, peeking as we speak to each other. She, however, crawls so soft and smoothly. Graceful, her face bright with vague smile. Looking at us, begging to be touched. She, the virgin mother nature.

We can stay here forever. Talking about almost anything. When we lost every word, we can silently walk through the path. Under the bright blue sky, accompanied by the green dewy bushes. Maybe some flowers will follow us, too. Because here, my friend, we are all free. It’s the land without limit or restriction.

No barriers, no constitution. No boundaries, no constriction.

The land belongs to us only. The land we created.  We became the king of everything. Somewhere near the beautiful yet unreal Eden. But, we found it here. Surely, we will find the happiness we so longed for.

We will talk about freedom. Let us free from the big plan game, constructed by the architect of imposture buildings. Silky invisible thread they hold dearly to control every movement we rouse. To create one big silly imagination we then worship. They play God, they play Crown. They make us believe only to crash the meant of being mankind. Those, the engineers of life.

There, we could not hold for the truth. We all live in one pseudo-reality we strongly, desperately wanted to believe. Just to ensure us that we truly alive. Then, we don’t, my friend.

The very least, deep inside of our mind, we knew we don’t. We are just too afraid to believe it. For what else can we believe unless something we possess? We want to believe we possess it. Yet, we didn’t. And we never do. Tell me, my friend? Do you?

Surely you understand that we are the pawn of the big field of chess. There was a black part under us. There was a white one, too. We color-blinded, yet it simplifies us. Yet, we were satisfied. Being the pawn of the game sure is easy, my friend. Being the fragment of the plans never render difficulties. Thus, we were forced to be satisfied.

How, my friend? Are you?

Our playground is invisible. Yet, there are so many colors as possible. We don’t have to choose, we can just absorb to every caress they offer. Destroy the plan and never look back to the game. The architect will never disturb our mind, nor be able decaying our heart and thoughts.

We can choose to be whatever. Never to shiver under the eye of the shadow. From the light used to be our guide. We are the children of whatever. Never to be blind by the darkness we used to fear.

Here, reality couldn’t touch us.

Not So Nice Indonesian’s Cultural Phenomenon : PHP

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What’s PHP in English? The giver of false hope. The bastards who gives us the false hope? L.O.L

I’m not sure, maybe someone who knew can leave comment and tell me? What the perfect English term for the giver of false hope?

Well, let me describe a little bit about PHP. It’s Indonesian term of someone who constantly gives you an attention and kind affection that makes you happy and feel special. Usually, Indonesian people use this term refer to romantic relationship, although sometimes PHP can develop into general terms. The employer who gives the employee the baseless news so the employee develop a baseless hope, for example? Like there’s elaborate news about salary rising, but eventually, nothing is actually rising except the sun every morning 😀

I’m gonna limit my opinion to romantic relationship here.

What confuses me that people always blame this PHP, while, to be honest, the one who harbors the feeling of hope is actually, I don’t think it’s wrong, but more like it’s personal problems. The fault is if we’re asking people to take care of our problems. Lately, it becomes more and more difficult to be nice or kind to other people, because it only causes misunderstanding and creates new problems. What was that?

Don’t take a girl home, if you don’t want to be her boyfriend“, I think it’s really shockingly stupid. Sorry about the words. But, it only makes everything in this world becomes more complicated. What kind of kindness we should do, if we don’t want to create those misunderstandings? Why should we limit ourselves -in something good, morally speaking too!-  in order to take care of other people’s feeling? I mean, usually, we stop talking and doing harsh and violent things to avoid people’s suffering. Now, we should limit ourselves to be kind to other people? Really?

Well, that was really absurd to me!

I mean, we gotta start to learn, if there is nothing happened, roughly said, if a guy or girl doesn’t ask you out on a date or honestly tell you that they want to build serious romantic relationship with you, then there’s nothing really happened! So, instead of blaming other people who are being nice of you, thus gives you false hope, you can restrict your expectation, it’s rather different from hope actually, with open up yourself to reality! That there is nothing actually happened just yet! Well, maybe sometime later, there’s nothing wrong with hope, as long as you hang on to the reality, but nothing happened until something’s actually happened!

Reality is the only thing you can hold on, fellas! It may distorted by our perception, but, at least, when it’s empirically proven, we can have a definite argument of our personal assumption. I mean, who care about feelings anymore, when you are already committed to marriage, just to be clear? It’s already an empiric proofs, at the very least! There’s even a written legalized agreement paper about it. Then, I can tell you that it’s no longer “false hope,” right?

So, don’t really hang on to the false baseless expectation. Rather, you should just work on your decision. If you like this girl or this guy intensively, you just come out to them. Tell them your feeling and, of course, prepared to be rejected, too. It might not be a good feeling, but it’s a good experience. If you don’t stand among the uncertainties, leave it! And if you must wait, of course you can, but please, no longer blame anyone for whatever you harbored in your own heart. It’s yours, it will never be his/hers, thus only you, yourself, can manage it. No one can be able to do anything of your own heart, honestly!

Please, let the world be nice and kind once again, without any suspicions and distorted perceptions. The world are already suffering enough. (I put a little bit drama here ROTFL)

Freedom of Expression

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Lately, there is a massive debate among Indonesian people. I thought it would be over once Ahok was arrested, he was in jail now. Ahok was charged over a Blasphemy in Indonesia, because these sentences :

“Jadi jangan percaya sama orang. Kan bisa saja dalam hati kecil bapak ibu enggak bisa pilih saya. Karena dibohongin pakai surat Al Maidah 51 macem-macem gitu lho. Itu hak bapak ibu, ya.” (So, don’t believe in other people. It can be that in deep in your subconscious you cannot elect me. Because you are fooled with surah Al-Maidah 51 or such things like that). Honestly, you can judge yourself, is it a blasphemy or not. I won’t direct you to one or other ways 😀

So, of course there is pro and cons about this charge. Some people don’t believe that it can be called blasphemy, but some people said it was a blasphemy. So, even though Ahok was already asked for forgiveness, some people won’t forgive him. Let’s say that the people who won’t forgive him is already too offended or resented by his sentence. (Later, he is sentenced guilty, anyway)

And what’s bad about these debates is there is no longer rational restriction. While debate or discussion actually can be helpful to bring new ideas, people just brought it up to win something. Maybe they are very pessimistic on winning something else? I don’t know.

My suggestion is, when you feel like you want to force people onto your ideas, maybe you must think about yourself first. Would you like someone else force onto his/her ideas? I bet you don’t.

After all, there was a really good quote from Noam Chomsky about this.

“If we don’t believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don’t believe in it at all.”

Good quotes. I agree. Whoever that is, and however we despised them or their ideas, don’t you think every people have their freedom of expression? I learned a lot actually from those phenomenon happened in my country.


antara maya dan nyata