December 6, 2018

I have been away and trapped my self inside my cube. 

The worst thing I got, your last warm smile lingering in my mind.

Damn! I was betrayed again, by the ticking time. 

You just wouldn't take that smile away, the envenoming memory of how sweet he could be.

The rains pouring every night, watering my longing for every single you in my memories.

it's raining lightly outside.

featuring Sam Kim's Seattle. 

November 29, 2018

 

 

We met in early april, and I kept passing that same path way home with your very own umbrella. I wished I would be able to shake your hand at least, for thanking you letting me hid under your umbrella.

You looked hurt that day.

You held your anger with your cold americano in rains.

Coffee isn't calming for some reasons, dear mr. americano in brown coat. I would treat you to a glass of vanilla latte once we meet again, at least a latte, to comfort your uneasiness. 

I was waiting you at the same seat we sat on that day. I was bringing my own book, Great Gatsby. But I couldn't concentrate onto every classic words I read. I kept wanting to look up whenever the door was opened, hoping that you might stop by.

You.

You were the unfamiliar feelings lingered around my heartbeat.

You were butterflies tickling me inside. 

You, might be the sweetest americano I know, even now. 

October 9, 2018

September 15, 2018

Reading this Novel-like Autobiography was a challenge at first. Despite my curiosity about politics, I am also in a position between skeptic and apathetic. This four hundreds thick of papers is written by a politician from a government side, Budiman Sudjatmiko (Partai Demokrat Indonesia Perjuangan).

During this second time of reading, i read and tried to discern every words into pieces of depiction and arrange it in the end to see what's the big picture I portray after a week of battle between slumber and cats in my head. This agenda of re-read the book is also a part of my way to learn about Indonesia, in terms of politics. 

I was as bewitched as the first time when I got this book as my 17th birthday gift from my sister and read this. Through very eloquent words, Budiman Sudjatmiko presented an explicit picture of how thrilling it was, since the beginning, fighting off people with power, dominance, arms, and faint consciences. There's this section entitled "Cakar-Cakar Kekuasaan" which straight-forwardly herd me into a gripping moments when Budiman Sudjatmiko and his fellow partisan were pursued and tortured by the regime's henchmen (Soeharto Era).

The story rises from Budiman Sudjatmiko's childhood. Where he lived in Majenang, surrounded by the inevitable bitter reality of people lived in poverty. Where he started contriving his idealistic toward democracy and prosperity. From a quiet night which let him to witness a suicide of Mbah Dimin, an old man who decided to lose and surrendered from life, from vicious destitution which introduced him to loan sharks.

"The reality, they couldn't help Mbah Dimin when he was alive, when he was in debt. They only showed their compassion after he was found dead. They gave him tribute and honor in his funeral, reading him forced obituaries and burning incense. I believe that they respect a body because they refused to help the living humbly."

How am I supposed to say it? Sometimes we reason and make excuses, that we are in no better condition to help. And I do this, at times.

Budiman Sudjatmiko embellished his story with little-or-much quotations and phrases from related books to support and justify his notions. From these, I envy him so much for spending most of his time being curious and searching the world. He is a passionate reader and spirited politician since young. Reading Anak-anak Revolusi was like jumping between books and journals, also as if I were a bench where he tried to explain every words said by an elaborated sources of facts, views of others, and fixed theories. Budiman Sudjatmiko provides his reasoning of how he perceived things.

More than glorifying his abundant of excruciating experiences or dramatizing every affliction, he wrote the flow in a good manner, where I could imagine how the kid Budiman Sudjatmiko grew onto an awkward adolescent, fledged onto a half-mature man until he finally immersed completely into practical politics during his college study.  

In the last few pages, Budiman Sudjatmiko depictured his life as a political prisoner, the life of some "democracy fighters" from a secluded penitentiary striving their vision, steering the movement and battle from inside.

Besides, life was never been so much fun without love story.

Budiman Sudjatmiko met by his very first lover and loved one in an unfathomable moment. That was a tickle between cries, a rose in a wild-wood. Beautiful.

September 9, 2018

Jika ada sesuatu yang terkadang mengusikmu, aku harap itu bukan kiriman umpatan jarak jauh dariku. Karena aku tak bisa untuk diam saja, membiarkanmu merebut dan menempati setiap petak lobus memoriku.

Musim hujan akan segera datang dalam beberapa minggu ke depan. Hujan juga sudah mulai sering singgah dan membawa angin beserta riuhnya pesta gumul-gumul awan abu-abu. Kemudian hatiku akan menjadi kusut sedikit demi sedikit karena terdesak kenangan yang akan sering mampir di sela jendela dan hujan. Kusut masih bukan masalah, tapi bila kusut kemudian terberai rindu yang terelakkan? Aku tidak tahu harus berbuat apa lagi.

Semakin rindu, tetapi aku semakin tak ingin bertemu.

Beberapa bulan lalu, di senja yang hangat, aku harap itu akan menjadi kenangan terakhir untuk beberapa waktu ini. Artinya, aku masih belum mau bertatap lagi dalam keadaan bingung seperti ini. 

Aku telah menyelesaikan sebagian besar urusanku, kemudian setelah lama aku tak pernah rindu sehebat ini, tiba-tiba di satu bagian otakku, di bagian parietal kanan dan kiri otakku, di mana aku menyimpan namamu, wajahmu, dan cerita tentangmu, tiba-tiba seperti kebanjiran dan meluap-luap.

Aku masih bingung harus berkata dan berbuat apa. 

Aku pikir aku telah lupa atau setidaknya hilang rasa.

Tapi ternyata kemarin-kemarin, aku hanya sesaat merasa hampa.

September 3, 2018

Aku pernah lupa, kalau sebenarnya aku masih mengagumimu, jingga yang kemerahan. Saat itu, mungkin, aku sedang kalut, atau hanya sibuk dengan urusanku sendiri. Ingatanku tak kuasa untuk mempertahankan rindu itu dan kemudian menyerah untuk beberapa saat, membiarkanku menjalani hidup tanpa kerinduan untukmu. 

Tapi setelah aku mampu menempatkan semua pada tempatnya, bagian dari ingatanku muncul lagi, iya, ingatan tentang bagaimana telah lama aku menyimpanmu lama di dalam sana. Aku tak pernah khawatir sedikitpun, jika suatu saat nanti otakku mulai bosan atau ingin sesuatu yang lain. Iya, karena rinduku padamu tidak seperti jagung kernel kaleng yang mudah basi walaupun aku letakkan di lemari pendingin. Buktinya? Sampai sekarang, perasaan itu masih tetap hangat membekas, sehangat hari terakhir aku melihatmu.

Setelahmu, setelah kamu datang, kemudian pergi.

Aku tak pernah ingat, siapa lagi yang pernah singgah, karena mungkin tidak ada. Alasannya karena mungkin perasaan yang kamu tinggalkan terlalu luar biasa sehingga belum ada yang mampu menggantikan, atau waktu-waktu yang pernah kita habiskan bersama telah membuatku enggan. Aku enggan untuk memiliki kenangan-kenangan, yang pada akhirnya hanya menjadi ingatan yang menyesakkan.

Aku bukan menunggumu.

Aku juga tak berharap kedatanganmu.

Kalau aku berdoa tentangmu, itu pasti karena aku telah putus asa karena kamu enggan pergi dari perasaanku. 

Suatu saat, aku pernah berdoa, untuk setiap waktu, tiba-tiba ingatan tentangmu hadir, teguhkan hatiku, karena aku hampir selalu tak mampu menahan besarnya rindu yang menderu.

July 16, 2018

THREE: AMERICANO X VANILLA LATTE

Everyone was surrendering, to the ticking time...

for the unfailing rain that repulse to cease.

And I was still trapped between my vanilla latte and his americano.

Americano.

Caffè Americano--iced.

the ice cubes were all almost gone.

I finally conceded my disguise in a book and reached the glass of vanilla latte.

He budged a little and looked up at me.

"Sweet?"

the very question he disserted was thing that didn't need an answer, out of all.

"No." I answered. 

I was honest. It wasn't sweet, the ice cubes were all melted away and diluted my should-be-sweet vanilla latte. 

I guess he was thirsty after saying stupid question and took himself his americano.

"Coffee should taste like this, 70 percent bitter, and sour the rest."

I watched half of him through the reflection of the dampen window, he was then leaning back and observed things outside. I just noticed that he wore a pretty brown velvet coat, looking warm. And he put his deerskin primaloft gloves on the table, in custard? and sure he matched them with his coat.

The afternoon was well-spent.

in awkward silence and fleeting ungainly eye-contact.

 

July 15, 2018

Photographed with fad.
Sister in frame.

 The Village has many interesting photo spots.

Wooden bridges, wooden stairs, classic store building, and a black big window.

July 8, 2018

 

So, just yesterday, me and sister drove to one trending good place in town around 11 kilometers from home, 25 minutes to count. This place always come into sight in every weekend's instagram timeline, and when curiosity met a good time, we decided to step on the gas.

Things that make the place seems new and novel in town is the red brick building along with other classic-likes. Paying IDR 18.000 would afford you to enjoy the small river and walking path.

Besides, there are many cutie things to see and touch,

And a kind of aves inside the cage.

Also hard-to-get sweet things which costed me 10 minutes in line...

March 29, 2018

TWO:

My vanilla latte, on the other hand, was unreachable.

This wooden brown table has no power over what happened between me, the guy across, and another girl there, on his phone call, when I thought at least I would perceived the table as a bulkhead that would seclude me from his total mess ambience.

Loud.

I guess, that's how people normally got angry.

Emotional.

I guess, that's what normal people reacting to a break-up.

"Let's just go on our separate way!"

I forgot that I was pretending to be absorbed in the book when I found my self starring at him, with a bit of empathetic-questioning eyes.

The Eleventh Page, I was taking back my eyes down to the book I have been holding only for an hideaway from his cumbersome presence. I read the last three lines.

"... Where I live, everything is so small!"

And, with a perhaps a hint of sadness, he added:

"Straight ahead of him, nobody can go very far..."

Right. It somehow pulled me into a revelation that I have been going nowhere. It would be just another day, with the same people to bump, another happiness I beared, another sadness I came through. Life is just... about re-cycling? so far. for me. though.

"Sh*t"

I misheard? Right?

The man in front of me was peeved and imprecated.

Just as staggered as my ear, my neck brought its way up to look him straight at his eyes.

"Sorry..."

So I paid him with a quite forbearing smile. Well- i wasn't really agreeing him about his swear words, but not completely disagreeing, either. People might need rest to be kind, sometimes the evil wanted to go out.

Curse. an offensive word or phrase used to express anger or annoyance.

Curse. I believed in some way, it could awake happy hormones, to make someone at ease, bring you to an overall sense of calm.


And just yet, I found him smiling.
His endorphins already made their way out.

And I was a little culpable.
For eavesdropping on a couple's fight, for witnessing a break-up.