Vanity Rebuked

I was shuffling over random files in my laptop and found an essay on Camus I had made when I was in the US last year or maybe two. Time sure goes fast and I really like how fast it went and be forgotten, or not. Many memories, for the weird workings of human mind always puzzled me, will never be gone from our heart and clasped our very breath each time it rekindled like an old flame, bursting, the flower, the red color on the apple of our cheeks which brought shame and regret and the long face, the pout, and then tears. And how lucky was I that never once I shed a tear over those memories now, for as long as I remember after my arrival at home. By which it means that I must have accepted that it had happened and have little regret of it.

What for must I wallow the sorrow those memory brought forth? The lessons were taught and, do believe me, that I had learned. By far, by the writings of Camus again, I have learned to accept faith as it is and once more reminded that life itself will burst so bright nearing its end and then all was lost. For every life started, it will all end in death and that is how the world spins around. For men to accept its faith is the most excruciating of all mission they ever be sent to earth for. I always think why would God sent us here? What was his intention? Every answer muddled my mind even more, so I accept it the way it is and stop questioning whether God ever exist or not, that the Faith was a gift itself and for it I wouldn’t have to question no more.

And I wonder when I saw the tears on my grandmother’s face, of hearing her wails so bitter and caressed her contorted face which shrink and withered in an instant as such a dried plum will, and of hearing my aunt’s shouts of how it wasn’t a proper act a good Muslim woman should conduct on the death of their relative, even their own brother. Standing among those veiled saints was I without any veil nor a single thread to cover my hair, standing was I holding my mother which hold her own mother which tearing her clothes in throes of sorrow, and ponder how inhumane was it to not feel for it is a mean of defying the God. By God’s will that every men must die and such is the time of His choosing, for us, his good followers, the faith was bound to keep us from feeling the pain of losing our kin.

My grandmother is a good Muslim, in my opinion, in my knowledge which perhaps inferior and lacking in many aspects of judging, for it was biased by the link of our blood, but how her faith had failed to protect her from her sorrow moved me. As I saw her trying to keep the waters at bay, feigning a calculated measure; a straight face, for I if no one had told me or she not stayed too long, will never caught the scent of anguish, had my grandmother did not at once let the dam broke free and her measure broken. She, with all her dignity intact or not I never know, went weak on her knees and fell on the floor weeping at last a few minutes after the call informing the passing of my great-uncle.

The shouting started and I, for every ounce of respect I held for my elders, cannot bear the sight of my aunt shouting recitals of the holy book and reminding my grandmother that it is improper to cry, that it is an act which question the God. Then I question myself; what are the tears made for? What is the Faith given for?

Of what, as it is the most vital means of surviving, will protect us from sorrow if Faith fails to do so?

By means that her Faith was not polished to its highest degree, thus proven, that I, myself, shall experience a more terrible anguish had it was my own sister whom passes away before me, for my faith has never been the purest of form. My father, my mother, those I loved and how ugly was I to not shed a tear over a great-uncle whom once, or few times more, had hold me in his arms and praised me for my achievements. The emptiness plagued me and for many times I had pondered on the absent of tears, of how perhaps my ability to melancholy was reduced to a state of—but then again, what for? Shall I, again, shed tears as I have done many times before over the passing of those close to me? For death itself has gained such an effect on my mind, my soul torn every time it gets close by then it mends and heal itself. The death of a friend—nay, friends. Of those I once cherish. Those faces long forgotten now, for never once I looked back and mingle with the memory with great joy, but a troubled feeling of uneasiness.

As Camus had written over Sisyphus, once again I declare I am happy. As I was before, as I am now, as I will always be. Of vanity rebuked and the mind shackled, soon my soul will be broken if I intend on questioning everything instead of living the years life has given me. And as Keats had said, I shall seize the days. For the curtains of the unknown had peered over my shoulder and knocking at my door the hands of the damnedest soul, the fire of purgatory will touch my skin before I ever set my eyes upon the gates of Heaven. And for that, I am thankful.

Random Words

Dan di atas itu adalah judul paling nyebelin setiap gue ke blog orang, karena isinya pasti ngelantur dan gak menarik. Well, hunny, sekarang gue lagi nyebelin dan gak menarik. Kapan sih gue nggak, sebenernya? Tapi entah sejak kapan gue selalu perlu untuk menulis sesuatu, seakan kepala gue gak pernah bener-bener berhenti mikir suatu cerita, atau gue ngeliat apa langsung kerangkai kata-kat.

Ah, IH brengsek.

Gue suka lagi. Tapi lama-lama gue heran juga kenapa gue selalu ke sana, setahun sekarang, hampir. Ngapain juga? Karena gue seneng kalo ada yang bilang mereka menikmati tulisan gue. Dan kebiasaan buruk gue adalah gue gak pernah nyelesain apa pun yang gue mulai walaupun gue tahu gue bisa. Setiap gue lagi sibuk, gue selalu pengen nulis buku atau ngelukis sesuatu, tapi gak ada satu pun yang beres. Jadi di sana, di mana gue bisa nyicil cerita pake postingan pendek-pendek tapi udah cukup untuk membentuk cerita, menghidupkan karakter-karakter, dan orang menikmatinya, itu amat menyenangkan loh. Beda, emang, di dunia nyatanya juga banyak yang bilang suka tulisan gue.

Kecuali bokap gue.

Njrit. Sebel juga sih, gue bikin puisi lah, cerita lah, semua bilang suka, kecuali bokap gue. Bukan, bukan karena dia an a**hole, tapi karena dia emang gak ngerti. Titik. Dia gak ngerti. Yah, gak semua orang diciptakan untuk menikmati tulisan, bokap gue orangnya teknik banget. Gini yah, pernah waktu itu gue homesick banget pas di Amrik dan gue tulis satu puisi buat bokap gue. Berikut-berikutnya gue telpon, gue diceritain, nah bokap gue tuh gak ngerti maksud puisi gue apa, sampe akhirnya adek gue yang baca, translatein (sebenernya bokap gue juga bisa bahasa inggris mah) dan adek gue nangis. Terus nyokap gue juga nangis. Nah, baru abis itu bokap gue terharu--tapi ga sampe nangis.

...Hm.

Dan gue join itu forum juga karena diajakin aja, ga ada persiapan apa-apa, simply karena bahasa gue kaco, itu aja. Cerita on the spot semua, paling kepikiran plot juga sambil lalu, tapi gue selalu memimpikan mereka aja, karakter-karakter itu. Membayangkan di satu tempat ada seorang yang memiliki sifat kayak begitu. Beberapa bilang mereka itu bagian diri gue yang difragmentasi dan jadi hidup masing-masing, jawabannya? Gak mungkin. Gak mungkin cuma gue, serius, tapi juga sebagian orang-orang di sekitar gue. Contohnya... Bokap gue yang sebenernya Slytherin abis dan nyokap gue yang Hufflepuff abis. Sifatnya. Untung nyokap gue gak lemot, nyokap gue pinter men... Anak beasiswa dari dulu, kurang pinter apa? Katanya sih dia menang rajinnya, itu satu poin, tapi dia juga pinter.

Nyokap gue... Orangnya setia mampus, family-oriented. Dia sih pengennya sekarang pensiun aja, toh dia gak pernah mimpi muluk mau hidup kaya. Masa katanya dulu tuh cita-cita dia jadi pemilik lumbung padi, punya sawah banyak... Gue diem aja tuh, gatau mau komentar apa. Atau jadi penjahit, dulu seneng banget ngejahit baju sendiri. Atau jadi pramugari buat keliling dunia, tapi tinggi dia cuma 155. Pokoknya mimpi nyokap gue berkisar sekitaran situ deh. Bikin restoran kek (yang ini gue dukung abis, soalnya masakan dia enak XD), jualan kue, dsb. Abisan akhir-akhir ini dia kalo pulang kerja suka stress, dan gue tahu ortu gue suka berantem urusan bisnis keluarga. Dan nyokap selalu nyalahin ambisi bokap gue, dia sendiri sih maunya pensiun dan bergumul di rumah aja ngapain kek...

Hapel. Hapel abis. Tapi sebenernya mulut dia pedes loh, cuma nyokap gue polos sih, jadi terima kasih ya Allah, gak jadi parah itu mulut. Kalau kalian tahu aja keluarga dari nyokap--AAAAAGH! Slytherin abis itu semua... Mulutnya naujubillah, muka duanya lebih lagi, pengen gue gamparin. Untung bargaining point gue tinggi. Mau ngatain apa mereka? Nyokap gue udah sukses, keluarga gue adem ayem, emang mereka? Poligami, tapi miskin. Mau komentarin guenya gagal jadi cewek gak bisa masak, gak manis, gak ayu? Sini ngomong sendiri, gue masuk ITB mereka masuk apa? Lulus SMA aja kagak. Iya gue sombong, biarin, mereka ngatain nyokap gue yang nggak-nggak. Mau bilang dia gagal ngedidik anak? Emang anak mereka lebih bagus dari gue apa? Muka kumel, badan kontet--biasanya mulut gue disentil ama nyokap gue tiap abis ngomong gini (nyokap gue gak suka ngehina fisik, iya sih rendah banget, tapi nyokap gue masih oke kalau menghina sifat-sifat laen). Dan tiap pertemuan keluarga, gue nahan diri dan pasang senyum, atau pergi kabur, rasanya pengen gue jawab semua komentar mereka. Soalnya.... Mereka tuh mau nyindir ato muka dua tapi keliatan banget!!! AGH! Kalo mau nipu yang pinteran dikit kek! Gue juga sebel kali ditipu setengah-setengah!

Ada satu temen dari IH yang bilang ke gue; Prad, gak semua orang bisa ngerti, karena gak semua orang IQnya 120 ke atas. (Wah, random) Terus gue baru sadar. Darling, semua orang di sekitar gue IQnya 120 ke atas, 150 malah dan gue ini bego dibanding mereka. Macam makhluk seperti bokap dan adek gue yang bilang mereka menikmati fisika sementara gue muntah darah tiap kali harus ngerjain soal fisika. Tes USM kemaren aja gue gak isi soal-soal fisika sama sekali, daripada salah! Iya, separah itu. Semoga gue oke untuk fisika terapan, gue perlu, man!

Ah, kembali ke soal IQ. Adek gue selalu segan mau ngedit, ngritik tulisan gue kalo gue minta pendapat, karena dia bilang dia aja nulis masih gak becus. Tapi gue tahu dia hebat, dan gue percaya pendapat dia. Gitu halnya ke banyak orang, kalo mereka emang orangnya cerdas, pinter, dan bisa dipercaya, gue sangat menikmati kritikan mereka. Nah, tapi kalo orangnya bego? Hm... Maaf ya kalo gue kasar... (gak juga sih) Tapi gue kok cuma bisa senyam-senyum muka dua mode on tiap ada orang macam itu? Yang keabsahan penilaiannya amat diragukan ditilik dari kemampuan dia sendiri atau memang artikulasinya yang jelek? Bukan soal umur, darl, mau mereka lebih muda juga gue terima. Bahkan banyak orang yang jauh lebih muda dari gue yang gue amat kagumi. Ato misalnya temen-temen sekolah gue yang mereka tuh gak perlu ke luar negeri dulu kek gue untuk punya pikiran seterbuka itu. Tapi emang yah, orang macam... Ini selalu ada.

Yeah, yeah, gue bisa ngomong apa aja di sini. Toh gue hanya akan menohok mereka yang merasa. Dan peduli apa gue ama mereka, hm? Mau mereka mati juga paling gue kasih jari tengah. Yeah, mereka juga akan melakukan hal yang sama ke gue kayaknya karena begitulah dunia; kejem. Gue kejem, udah banyak yang bilang. Tapi ada aja kok yang bilang gue baek. Jadi itu relatif. Dan ini adalah satu pendapat relatif mengenai orang-orang yang pikirannya... Menjijikan buat gue. Piciknya menjijikan. Wah, gue udah berpindah ternyata, gak ngomongin soal tulisan gue lagi, tapi orang-orang keseluruhan. Yang gue suka dan yang gue nggak...

Hh. Mungkin udah saatnya gue pergi dan beneran nulis sesuatu. Biar penerbit aja yang ngerating tulisan gue dan mereka yang berkoar-koar tulisan gue menjijikan, nih, jari tengah. Ngapain juga beli buku gue kalo gitu? Hanya... Mimpi. Kapan coba gue bisa nulis buku beneran?

Random lagi...

Menurut gue ini gara-gara urusan IQ yang diomongin seorang temen gue itu. Iya, bener. Gak semua orang IQnya nyampe. Tapi masa iya sih? Ni target pembunuhan nomor 1 anaknya katanya pinter, kok? Gaaaaah... Gue kangen ni temen gue yang ngomen soal IQ itu =)) =)) I heart him, really...

DIA MANA SIH??!

Pergi. Muak, katanya. Bukan ama gue. Tapi karena gue gak bisa pergi, ya dia bye2 baik-baik, gue mohon-mohon juga dia pasti pergi. Aduh email terakhir juga... ._________. *jadi pengen nangis* Gue juga eneg. Eneg. Padahal dia bukan tipe yang baca buku, but he likes what I wrote... Ini waktunya gue juga pergi?

Gue pengen clayshot. Beneran pengen. Gak perlu muffler atopun kacamata pelindung, just gimme the gun and throw the object. BANG!

Adek. Adek gue tuh apa yah? Gryff, Huffle, Raven, atau Slyth? Raven. Kata gue sih. Ah, tau ga sih dia bilang apa tentang gue? Dia suka gue yang sekarang. Gue aja udah lupa kapan terakhir gue berantem ama dia... Dulu ya, rasanya gampang banget kita berantem. Selalu berakhir dengan adek gue nangis; katanya omongan gue tuh bisa jahat banget. Gak perlu pukul-pukulan, jambak-jambakan, cukup kata-kata. Jahat banget sih gue.... Maaf ya, Ino.

Kontrol diri gue sekarang udah jauh lebih baik, sebenernya, walaupun pilihan kata gue dan jalan pikiran gue mungkin lebih kejem dibandingin masa dulu, dulu gue masih lebih polos dan bego, tapi sekarang lebih kekontrol. Di sekolah gak ada yang ngira gue pemarah, udah beda banget deh! Paling ada sih satu dua yang pernah gue kelepasan. Kalau orang lihat bagian dalemnya sih serem, kali yah...

By the way, ini kayaknya minggu yang aneh deh. Mantan gue dua-duanya menghubungi gue lagi. Gak gue tanggepin lah. Yang satu udah mulai sayang-sayangan lagi... Yang satu; gue bilang ke dia gue lesbi aja biar dia diem. Yeah, that bad. Mereka sebenernya kenal gue dalemnya gak sih? Gue tau sih cara untuk mendapatkan mereka balik (pede amat ya?) tapi yah... Mengerikan ah.

Gue membayangkan seorang kribo yang memuka dua-i gue, berbaik di depan dan menghujat di belakang. Tahukah dia gue tahu? Pedulikah gue? Sepeduli itu ama kecoak kah? Iya peduli, karena gue pengen di depan dia ngasi jari tengah dan ngatain dia... Sekaliiii aja XD Beneran, gue pengen liat dia nangis mengampun. Gara-gara hal kecil... Hm. The old monster is back, I guess. Gue inget dulu, karena hal sepele begini gue bikin adek gue sendiri bercucuran air mata. Masa gue gak mampu sih ke kecoak beginian?

Kontrol diri, kontrol diri...

Salah gak sih? Gue gak mau dikritik jelek ama orang jelek, gak mau dibilang bego sama orang bego. Sombong emang. So? Hak apa mereka bilang ke gue gitu duluan? Ini, sayang, jari tengah.

Fine

Fine.

Fine, fine.....

It's fine................

.....................................FINE.

.......Nah, it's fine.......

....................................................................................

Hell yeah, I'm fine..................

.................................fine.........

Fine.

......................................Okay, fine.

.....GEEZ! FINE!

...............................................................Hhh.... fine.

....................HAHHAHA!! Fine.

Fine, thank you..............................................

No, it's fine.....

............................................................................................

.................................................................................

..........................................................

......................................

I'm fine.



Fuck, I'm fine.

CCTV

Gue online. Lagi Ujian Nasional, iye gue tahu. Gue lewat di ruang tamu ber-CCTV bawa novel yang disamarkan jadi buku pelajaran... Asal ga buka laptop, gue aman. Asal kamar gue ga dipasangin CCTV gue aman.

Asal blog ini ga ketahuan ortu gue, gue AMAN.

*Ketawa stress* Najes, rumah gue berasa apaan ada 3 CCTV yang gue lupa keberadaannya sampe tadi dibahas lagi. Iya, saat Smansa heboh karena beberapa kelas dipasangin kamera pengawas, gue sudah melewati itu semua dan idup di rumah ber-CCTV. Bukan, bukan karena rumah gue gede dan isinya berharga atau penghuninya mantan napi semua. Bukan, bukan, cuma karena BOKAP gue pengen aja. Ga ada kerjaan. Mana bisa diliat di internet pula... BUAT APA COBA??? =)) Katanya sih biar kalo lagi keluar kota, dia bisa ngecek rumah kapan aja. Dengan bangga bokap gue nunjukkin gambar gerbang, ruang tamu, dan kamar kerja dia (zona merah berkamera) saat kita lagi di Hongkong, di Malaysia, pas ke Bali kemaren, pas ke Thai dulu... Bahkan waktu gue di amrik, dia suruh gue buka web alamat CCTVnya yang servernya ada di rumah.

Iya, rumah gue ada server 24-jamnya.

Bokap gue moderator beberapa forum temu kangen ama temen2 lamanya, berdua ama nyokap. Dua-duanya punya friendster, facebook, ym, myspace, apalah... Mereka ikut semuanya. Pastinya gue juga segaul mereka kan?

NGGAK! Justru gue parno karena mereka ada di mana-mana dan bisa mengakses gue kapanpun lewat jalan manapun! Mereka bisa tahu rahasia temen2 gue yang curhat di frenster ato fb yang bahkan ortu mereka aja gatau. Gimana gue ga parno coba??

Oh, Tuhan. Blog ini adalah satu-satunya tempat aman bagi gue karena ortu gue GATAU alamat blog gue =)) Laptop gue digerendel dengan bejibun password aneh supaya ortu gue ga bisa buka. Gue ga pernah buka blog gue selaen di laptop, kalopun pake laptop bokap, pasti gue apus alamatnya dari history. Kamar gue berbagi dengan adek gue, which means kalo gue simpen diari, bisa dibuka dengan mudah, sapa tau pembantu gue beres2 dan bukunya nyasar ke tempat adek gue. Bahaya, udah gitu males. Lagian buku diari keknya rada-rada jaman pertengahan gituh rasanya... Gue males nulis teratur.

Anyway, gue masih parno tapi tetep aja buka inet. Sbodo. Long gone the time waktu gue kalap saat tahu wajah gue terpampang di sebuah album online keluaran bokap gue yang gak gue tahu keberadaannya sampe seorang temen gue bilang dia baru liat website gue. Website apaan? Tanya gue waktu itu. "Website narsis elo, isinya foto elo semua..." Na-najes. Gue langsung tahu itu kerjaan bokap gue. Astagfirullah =)) Kurang kerjaan amat... Dan sekarang gue sedang menghadapi anceman nyokap untuk segera bikin FB karena kalo nggak mereka akan buatin buat gue... Dan mereka bisa masang foto2 gue dong?

ASTAGA TIDAK! =))

Gue bukannya gimana2 ya... Tapi lo tahu ga sih rasanya kalo ortu lo begitu ngebet pengen bisa add FB elo supaya bisa komen wall-to-wall gitu? Kalo ga diapprove nanti gue jadi anak durhaka dong! Oke, kembali ke topik CCTV awal. Tadi tuh kan gue dijemput di skul abis UN (mana ketahuan lagi ngeliatin dagangan abang2 penjual dvd game di depan sekolah pula) dan diboyong untuk cari makan oleh kedua ortu + adek gue. Mereka baru abis dari dokter, ade gue di-ct scan soalnya ia sakit kepala mulu dan diduga ada pembengkakan saluran cairan otak atau pembuluh darah meibi. Yah, ga stroke ini, jangan sampe deh. Dan ternyata ct scan itu mahal sekali, sodara-sodara! Ade gue yang pelit naujubile dan amat mahir memanfaatkan orang tua kami agar dia ga perlu keluarin duit jajan itu sampe shock dan bilang ke nyokap gue kalo lebih baik tagihannya diambil dari tabungan dia aja. Kalo perlu dicicil. Eh, ngga ding. Bayar tunai. Soalnya dia tajir banget sih, beda ama gue =))

Ternyata gen lebai tidak melewati adek gue--walo sebenernya keluarga gue tuh justru sangat anti-lebai, kami adalah kontra-nya lebai. Sangat down-to-earth, mellow, liat aja nih gue lagi mo UN masih sante... Bokap gue juga orngnya sante... Ade gue--BEUH--bisa ga mandi dia seharian nongkrong nonton tv kabel ato maen game. Hanya nyokap gue yang lebai. Nah, itu anomali =)) Untuk menetralisir kelebaian nyokap gue, maka kami semua menjadi manusia vegetatif yang amat pasif. Tadi itu ade gue menunjukkan trait lebai yang cukup signifikan.

Shit. Nyokap gue pulang. Off dulu. Bye, lanjut ntar.

Belajar Merelakan

Yeap, kalian tuh yah... Belajarlah merelakan gue lulus usm please =))

Gini deh, hari ini yang paling bikin gue siyok adalah saat gue mendapat sebuah IM dari seseorang yang isinya kayak begini:

doll_dodol: nanya dong
Gue: apa say?
doll_dodol: *emot muntah*
doll_dodol: itb itb itb...dapet gak?
Gue: ?
Dapet arsi XD
doll_dodol: *emot nangis*
Gue: knapa >D kok nangis sih
doll_dodol: kok lo dapet sih
Gue: JAH *ngakak gegulingan*
KOK LO KEK GA SENENG SIH
doll_dodol: yah kalo ada elo disana, gw gak semangat ngejar itb nih
Gue: MAKSUD LO???
gue dah kerja keras nih men *emot ngakak*
doll_dodol: *pura pura percaya*
Gue: apaan sih
gara2 gue banyak maen ye?
doll_dodol: begitulah kira kira

Dan dari perbincangan singkat itu, gue mengais-ais ingatan dan menyadari kalau emang banyak orang yang sepertinya geger banget gue keterima :| A-apakah gue semeragukan itu ya penampilannya? Emang sih gue gak kayak anak laen yang pada belajar ampe serius tiap hari sedangkan gue ngenet mulu. Tapi pas USM kemaren gue all out, men! Heran gue juga, gak pernah gue seniat itu mengerjakan sesuatu (selaen mengerjakan hal-hal yang berhubungan dengan kesukaan gue) apalagi SIMAK UI untuk jurusan Arsi aja gue gak keterima. Gue nangis loh pas tau keterima ITB, nyokap gue juga, kita lompat-lompat kayak orang sarap. Paling bokap gue aja yang cuma nyengir puas, soalnya dia satu-satunya yang yakin gue akan keterima di ITB =))

Kemaren aja saking ragu gue bisa keterima ITB kan sampe daftar PMDK Udayana dan beli tiket ke Bali segala... Persiapan apa gue masuk Lim Kok Wing aja gituh, ato UI inter dsb. Tante dan Om gue janji ngasi gue jam tangan (Anjrit men, gue dapet jam tangan Bvlgari!). Bokap bilang mobil. Dan gue rasa-rasanya yakin mereka juga ga yakin gue bisa keterima. Kecuali bokap ding. Sekarang gue ngerti perasaan adek gue yang waktu mo masuk SMA kemaren pada ga percaya dia bisa masuk SMA 1. Nyokap gue udah siap mo masukin dia ke Regina Pacis aja, soalnya ngeliat kedulnya dia belajar, nyokap gue ga yakin nilai UN ade gue bisa bagus...

Ajaibnya dia dapet nilainya tinggi, belon lagi sekarang jago fisika pula =)) Yah, waktu itu juga hanya bokap gue yang yakin ade gue bisa dapet SMA yang dimau. Dan gue amat percaya perkataan Pak Bas yang bilang semua itu tergantung sama doa orang tua. ALHAMDULILLAH! :D Gue sungkem sama bokap gue deh. Kayaknya kepercayaan dia ama gue yang bikin gue berhasil... Walaupun mereka diem-diem aja liat gue masih sempet-sempetnya ngenet menjelang tes, tapi itu karena gue stress men! Sekarang juga sih... Gue stress ama UN.

Anyway.. Emang gue ga sepinter orang-orang lain dan ga seserius itu mengejar sesuatu, emang hidup gue itu digampangin banget, diberkahi banyak hal baik materi, batiniah dll. Hidup gue penuh cinta tralala dan semua keinginan gue bisa tercapai mulus, orang tua gue kecukupan... Emang gue ga punya kehidupan susah yang menuntut semangat juang. Tapi bener deh, gue juga serius banget pas memang waktunya gue maju perang. Gue mati-matian ngerjain soal-soal USM (walopun gue sempet keteteran pas bagian IPA karena ketiduran dan mimpi Chuck Bass a.k.a. Reno) tapi gue serius men. Dengan segenap kemampuan gue, sampe gue banjir keringet yang bagian psikotes ngitung tuh yah. Biasanya kan skor gue paling 600an, itu tumben gue bisa nambah! Pas tes gambar juga, gue juga ragu gue bisa keterima Arsi jadi setidaknya gue pengen keterima SR jadi gue gambar sekuat tenaga dan memeras otak gue sampe jus kreatif itu ngocor kali dari telinga gue...

Dan sampe untuk rekoveri gue bergantung pada RPGan di IH ama anak2 sinting ituh ampe jam 3 pagi =)) Tapi itu bener-bener nyegerin gue dan bikin gue siap tempur!

Oh well... Maafin gue yang ga sekeras kalian berjuang, tapi untuk soal kesungguhan, kalian jangan kira gue kalah.

Intermezzo

Gue baru baru baca blog si Cubung saat liat foto sapa tuh, Luthfi? Kemaren nyokap gue sempet ngamuk (atau lebih tepatnya panik) saat gue janji akan bawa pacar baru; cowo kribo dekil n de kumel (mungkin gue perlu sasar anak2 fsrd?) ke rumah untuk dikenalin.

Dia ngancem mau jodohin gue. WAKAKAKA!

Se-serius... Gue akan bawa cowo kribo nanti, cari ah =))

Pengakuan Dosa

Sudah lama sekali daku tidak bersua dengan blog ini! :3 Gue baru pulang dari perjalanan 4 hari di Bali kemarin dan sekarang ada banyak banget hal yang ingin gue tulis. Percaya deh, gue akan menahan diri untuk tidak mengomel mengenai supir gue yang bawelnya naujubila, bagaimana kuping gue budek gue jejelin earphone demi memblokir racauan si supir, kenapa makanan hotel itu gak enak, dan kenapa Bali tuh mahal en de panas. Tapi pantainya asoi sih, gue akui, tetep aja XD

Mau mulai dari mana? Lebih baik detail-detail perjalanan mah gak usah dibahas kali ya? Soalnya paling juga itu ngebosenin, bahkan bagi gue. Tapi kemaren tuh gue baru habis membaca satu buku yang bikin gue terpana (kenapa gue malah baca buku pas liburan, kata lo? Well, gini yah, kemaren tuh gak bisa disebut liburan juga secara tujuan awal adalah mengantar gue tes Udayana dan akhirnya end up jadi ortu gue hunting buat angkul-angkul dan ukiran batu bali. Menurut lo gue ngapain aja di dalem mobil selaen menggendutkan diri dan membaca buku?) dan buku itu adalah La Dame aux Camelias.

Gadis berbunga kamelia.

Karangan Dumas Jr. Anak *haram* dari Dumas Sr. yang bikin the Count of Monte Cristo. Yang novelnya begitu membuat gue terpana sampai gue pakai nama Morcerf untuk karakter gue di IH. Saking gue cintanya sama itu novel... Tapi gak mungkin gue pake nama Dantes kan? Jiplak amat gitu mah. Dan ini, anaknya, yang membuat cerita roman, yang seharusnya ecekeble termehek-mehek sebagaimana cerita roman biasanya, bikin gue menitikkan air mata. Gue pengen sih bilang "Najis." tapi emang sebegitunya buku ini membuat gue sedih. Sedih karena mungkin aja ada manusia yang seperti itu.

Di depan patung Ganesha dan Rahwana, gue inget, gue selesai baca surat-surat Marguerite Gautier untuk kekasihnya, Armand Duval. Dan emang Armand itu cengeng, tapi itu karena dia mencintai, dan ga bisa dipersalahkan untuk itu. Ada ya buku yang membuat gue sadar kalau semua cerita itu mungkin terjadi, bahwa khayalan semata itu gak mungkin menggerakan emosi sebegitunya, kalau semua ini dibumbui oleh kemungkinan bahwa di suatu tempat hal tersebut bisa terjadi. Kalau semua khayalan itu mungkin. Dan itu membuat gue sedih karena gue menulis sesuatu yang kemungkinan besar tidak akan terjadi. Buku yang membuat gue mengakui bahwa selama ini gue begitu sombong untuk meminimalisir kemampuan manusia untuk merasa lebih dalam, mungkin banyak yang nggak ngerti gue ngomongin apa, tapi bagi yang tahu, bagi yang ikut IH dan kenal karakter gue; gue merasa karakter gue kosong.

Sumpah, kosong.

Gue menulis berbayangkan Dorian Gray, Lord Henry dan Basil. Lalu Nicolas sebagai pembaca, cerminan diri gue yang juga terpesona sama narasi Lord Henry di pembukaan mengenai kecantikan, kemudaan, dan keabadian. Mengenai pembenaran bagi segala yang absurd dan dosa. Kalian pernah baca Dorian Gray? Baca yang bahasa Inggris dan lo akan ngerti kenapa Oscar Wilde dituntut karena menyesatkan generasi muda. Gue sendiri takut waktu itu, gue takut terhasut dan terhanyut sama semua narasi di dalamnya yang membuai. Itu. Dan topik mengenai dendam, seperti di buku Count of Monte Cristo, dibumbui pengampunan dan cinta.

Tapi gue gak pernah berpikir semurni cinta. Semurni Armand yang nangis meraung karena Marguerite mati sebelum pernah melihat Armand lagi. Gue nangis karena Armand yang balas dendam dengan nyakitin Marguerite yang udah hampir mati. Gue nangis karena wanita macam Marguerite mencari penebusan dosa dengan meninggalkan satu-satunya pria yang dia cintai demi kebahagiaan perawan suci, demi adik Armand. Demi Blanche.

Gue akan spoil itu satu buku kalo bisa.

Gini yah, kalian boleh bilang gue tipe-tipe romantis lembek bla-bla-bla dan gue gak akan nolak kok. Karena gue bahagia bisa begitu, bahagia bisa melihat semuanya lewat kaca warna merah muda--nggak juga sih, tapi hidup gue romantis, menurut gue sih. Dan di perjalanan ini juga gue melihat bahwa ada darah yang mengikat, bahwa sejarah itu berulang, bahwa garis sifat itu diturunkan. Betapa gue seneng ngedengerin orang tua gue mengenang bulan madu mereka di Bali. Waktu mereka masih miskin dan gak punya apa-apa, mereka nabung buat bisa ke Bali dan nikmatin semuanya. Ibu gue masih bisa ngasi tau di hotel apa mereka tinggal, hotel kecil yang udah ga ada sekarang. Dan semua kenangan kecil lainnya. Gak semua orang seberuntung mereka.

Bokap gue yatim piatu, nyokap gue yatim. Dua-duanya miskin sampe makan aja susah, tapi mereka beruntung karena bertemu. Ibu gue masih kelas 1 SMA dan bokap gue kelas 3 waktu mereka mulai pacaran. Pacar pertama mereka. Dan gak semua orang bisa seberuntung itu ketemu cinta yang tulus di tembakan pertama kan? Gue geli dengernya, sekaligus kagum. Sewaktu nyokap gue diusir dari rumahnya (dia numpang saudara btw, nenek gue jadi koki di Brunei), waktu dia luntang-lantung di jalan, bokap gue langsung ngasih uang beasiswa dia supaya nyokap gue bisa tinggal di asrama. Itu waktu mereka kuliah, dan mereka bisa sekolah sejauh itu semata-mata karena beasiswa penuh pemerintah. Dan untuk menutupi biaya sekolah bokap gue, bareng-bareng mereka kerja. Jualan ayam lah, ngerjain skripsi orang lah, nyokap gue gambar untuk dijual ke tukang sablon lah. Mereka miskin tapi mereka beruntung. Tujuh tahun mereka bareng sebelum nikah dan sampe sekarang.

Bokap gue ga romantis, tapi nyokap gue iya. Kalian tahu gak rasanya saat nyokap gue pernah bilang kalau dia gak bisa bayangin gimana kalau bokap gue meninggal duluan? Bahwa nyokap gue menahan diri untuk nggak pergi haji demi menjaga iman bokap gue (ceritanya panjang). Bahwa mereka tuh cinta sejati dan gue gak bisa bilang selain itu.

Lalu bandingin dengan kisah nenek gue yang udah hajjah sekarang di usia 64 tahun dan masih merokok dengan gagahnya. Kisah dia juga bikin gue tersentuh. Anak badung, emang, wayward child yang diasingin sama saudara-saudaranya sendiri. Nenek gue ketemu kakek gue juga di kelas 1 SMA. Ada satu pertengkaran hebat yang membuat nenek gue kabur dari rumah satu hari, dan dengan begonya dia lari ke rumah kakek gue. Besoknya, kakek gue nganterin nenek gue balik, setelah menasehati dia semaleman, dan langsung ngelamar nenek gue agar gak terjadi fitnah.

Itu. Demi menjaga nama baik nenek gue.

Umur 20, nenek gue udah punya 3 anak. Umur 21, kakek gue mati kecelakaan. Bisa kalian bayangkan keadaan nenek gue? Setengah gila. Itu cinta pertama nenek gue, mungkin cinta sejatinya walaupun nanti di masa depannya dia menikah lagi demi anak-anak. Yang jelas saat itu nenek gue mencintai seorang pria sampai sebegitunya. Penghiburan yang dia dapat waktu itu adalah sekotak rokok yang tertinggal di salah satu saku kemeja mendiang kakek gue. Nenek gue nemuin itu saat sedih-sedihnya, saat rindu sama mendiang suaminya, dan ada sekotak rokok. Yang baunya sama seperti kakek gue. Isapan pertama bikin dia nangis lebih keras, kata nenek gue, isapan kedua membuat dia tenang, di isapan ketiga dia seakan melihat kakek gue ada lagi di hadapannya. Dan isapan-isapan seterusnya membuat dia terus hidup, terus kuat untuk anak-anaknya, untuk hidup, simpelnya aja. Sampe sekarang rokoknya juga masih sama itu-itu aja. Yang bau cengkeh. Dan nenek gue seger buger loh, dia sama sekali gak kayak perokok berat kecuali badannya aja yang kurus. Udah haji juga, rokok tetep jalan...

Itu dua generasi di atas gue. Nah, gue? Cinta itu basi. Perintang jalan hidup dan perusak masa depan. Gue mimpi muluk pingin beruntung menemukan cinta seperti nenek dan ibu gue. Dengan begonya, dengan naifnya, gue percaya cinta itu untuk semua orang. Dicintai itu hanya kemewahan bagi mereka yang cantik sebagaimana ibu dan nenek gue adalah yang tercantik di sekitarnya. Cantik, cerdas, tapi gue? Sayang, sekarang gue sadar bahwa gue itu diciptakan untuk mencintai dan bukan untuk dicintai dan gue menerima fakta itu dengan lega sekarang setelah gue menjalani segalanya.

Bahwa gue akan menjadi Armand bagi kekasih gue nanti dan bukan Marguerite. Ah, itu peran yang lebih mudah bagi sifat alamiah gue karena satu kecapan di ambang kematian sudah cukup. Saat darah yang sama seperti dari pembuluh nenek dan ibu gue dikuras habis, saat pernyataan cinta itu hanya omong kosong dan gue melihat semua kehidupan gue melintas di mata. Saat semuanya, Emmet dan Adelle tercinta datang menjadi penghiburan dan penyelamatan. Pelajaran yang gak mungkin dilupakan bahwa bahkan gue sekali pun nyaris mati karena cinta. Karena dicintai dan membiarkan diri dicintai dengan cara seperti itu. Belajar untuk mencintai sebagaimana Armand mencintai adalah apa yang gue pelajari. Nggak semua orang diciptakan untuk menjadi Marguerite. Gue akan lebih bahagia kalau bisa mencintai setulus M. Duval pada Mme. Gautier.

Iya gue tahu, mimpi itu konyol dan seharusnya sekarang gue mulai mikirin ** (kata tabu ituh) daripada mikirin yang lain. Tapi gue nangis, darling. Gue bisa-bisanya nangis gara-gara buku itu dan semua dosa kembali merundung. Gue tahu gue akan pergi ke neraka dulu sebelum ke surga, dosa gue gak akan bisa kalian bayangkan, dan entah mungkin gue mati bertahun lalu saat dia mati juga. 4 Juni 2007, gue pernah mati. Gue pernah menghilang untuk sesaat dan saat itu gue pernah berdoa untuk sebuah hukuman mati, atau apapun untuk menebus segala dosa gue. Tapi gue hidup, Tuhan membiarkan gue hidup sampai sekarang dan terus mengingat masa lalu yang sesusah apapun gue kubur akan selalu gue ingat. Dan memberi kekuatan untuk terus mencintai seseorang, sesuatu, segalanya.

Aih, ini lebih menyenangkan daripada menerima peran pasif yang dicintai sementara kaki tangan gue diborgol dan gue dimasukkan ke dalam sangkar. Gue menciptakan Nicolas untuk mencintai, Kristobal untuk memuja, Maximillian untuk memimpikkan kebahagiaan, dan Francis untuk mengatakan segalanya. Gue mengabadikan segalanya dalam bentuk Dorian Gray, dalam bentuk ketampanan yang abadi. Tapi gue menghilangkan satu hal, satu hal yang Basil selalu katakan, sesuatu yang gak bisa diungkapkan dengan kata-kata, sesuatu mengenai jiwa. Kenapa sedikit banyak gue terikat sama karakter itu? Gue bermimpi terlalu banyak, dan selama gue masih bermimpi, selama itu pula kemungkinan berkembang, cerita mereka mengalir dan selamanya Morcerf hidup di kepala gue karena eksistensi mereka adalah mimpi dan bunga di taman ilusi ini.

Satu hari mereka juga akan mencintai seperti Armand. Mungkin bukan untuk Marguerite saja, untuk semua yang mempesona bagi gue. Selalu ada, Muses di setiap belokkan yang gue lalui. Sayang, gue mencintai segala keindahan. Fisik mempesona gue, tapi yang ada di dalam lebih lagi. Temen gue pernah nanya, gimana kalau satu saat kita menyukai seorang pria tampan sampai benar-benar dalem sementara pria itu menganggap kita jelek. Anehnya, figur khayalan itu langsung berubah menjadi objek di bayangan gue. Seperti lukisan yang indah aja. Semudah itu kita mencinta dan membenci. Kenapa gue terikat pada dunia maya? Karena di sini banyak karakter-karakter indah yang dibentuk (walau mungkin oleh jiwa yang tidak begitu indah ataupun segala kekurangan fisik lainnya) yang membuat gue jatuh cinta pada mereka. Dan sedikit banyak para pemain di belakang layar juga memikat gue.

Di sini kata-kata menjadi deskripsi bibir ranum dan bulu mata lentik, kisah hidup mereka menjadi tubuh semampai dan jemari lembut, masa lalu dan masa depan adalah nyanyian dan rayu mereka. Gimana bisa gue gak jatuh cinta? Ada banyak pikiran liar yang sekarang malah menguap hilang padahal begitu mengganggu gue selama di Bali. Ada banyak lagi yang pengen gue tulis. Tapi ini saja, ini sudah cukup. Bahwa ada saatnya makhluk dengan segala keterbatasan menyadari apa yang bisa dia lakukan. Ada banyak yang ingin gue kutip, tetapi mungkin di lain waktu. Sekali lagi gue jatuh cinta oleh orang bernama Dumas.

Dan bagi orang-orang yang pernah gue panggil sebagai Muse gue, tolong percaya, kalau gue mencintai kalian dengan tulus. Bukan sebagai objek, lebih seperti memuja, mungkin seperti (atau menyerupai) Armand yang mencintai Marguerite.

Shuffle

Yak! Iseng tadi blog walking dan nemu maenan ini di blognya Nyus. Kalo sendirian mah ga enak, jadi seret si Emak dan si Melata, ajak yang lain lagi ah nanti~ Btw, Mak, secara gak langsung pun gue bisa mempengaruhi loh /gg. I have my ways. Anyway, here we go.

The man/woman you will marry will be?
Wake Up Cal - Maroon5
....Kawinnya aja belom udah diramalkan bakal ditinggal selingkuh gue. Hiii!

What's your ambition in life?
My Lagan Love - The Corrs
Awww.... Gue kira gue akan dapet 'It's All About the Money - Meja' tapi ternyata deep down gue se-sweet ini yah B-)

If you were the lead character in a tv show, what would you do?
Something About Us - Daft Punk
WTF. Tokoh apaan nih?? Casanova? Femme Fatale? Anjis lagunya gombal!! Wakakak. 'I love you more than anything in my life...' GOMBAL!!

What will people think of you at your funeral?
Caught in the Moment - Sugababes
Hmm. Rada bingung juga gue menginterpretasikannya. Apakah artinya mereka akan kebingungan saking kehilangannya? Fufufu..

What do you secretly dream will happen in the future?
Sweeter and Sweeter - Alex Parks
Crap. Anjis, ngeri. 'Intense pain' naon! Ini, ini... Aduh, ranjau di playlist gue inih, mo dibuang tapi... TAPI GUE SUKA LAGUNYA!! Intinya jadi gue di masa depan akan bertemu orang yang sangaaaaat maniiis. Itu impian rahasia gue. Yea. Right.

You would like to do ___ to your enemy.
Is It Any Wonder - Keane
So true. Capek, bener banget Bang Chaplin, capek, capek. Tapi musuhnya mo diapain? Cuma diratapi? Heu, heu, dimaapin? Bingung.

You think kids are...
Junjou na Kanjou - (?)
Siapa yang nyanyi gue gatau. Lagunya Samurai X wakakakak!! Wah, si Ino masukin playlist dia juga toh. Yasutra. Tapi gue ga ngerti ini lagu tentang apa! XD Ada yang mau kasih tahu? Ah, berarti gue sendiri masih kayak anak kecil, sukanya Samurai X >> I think kids are the same as I am. Err. Gak juga sih, gue gak gitu suka anak kecil.

Why do your siblings hate/love you?
I Can't Stop The Feelings I've Got - Razornight
WTFFFFF!!! JIJAY!

High school musical is?
Chasing Pavements - Adele
WUOGH! Gue suka lagunya! Sebenernya gue ga suka HSM, jadi artinya ni lagu apa? Sumprit, playlist gue ga nyambung. Should I give up? Or should I stop watching Efron? Both. I give up wathcing HSM.

What makes you mad?
Better That We Break - Maroon5
....Bosen ah maroon5 lagi. Hm, iya sih putus tuh bikin gue marah. Eh. Tunggu. Hm. Nggak juga sih. Hahaha. Gue marah masa-masa menjelang putusnya! Wah, lagunya betul!

What catastrophic thing will happen in your future?
Fix You - Coldplay
Ooooow!! Whatever will happen in my future there's gonna be some Chris Martin that will fix it for me ;;)

You think your parents are:
Hold on Loosely - 38 Special
WUOGH!! Bener dj! Mamih papih yang baik, benul sekali ini lagu. 'Hold on loosely, if you hang on tightly, you will loose control!' Waw. Banyak juga yang pas yah, it kinda gives me the creep.

What cheers you up?
Promises - The Cranberries
Hah? Gue seneng dijanjiin? Emang gue apaan? Pemilih? Kok jadi berasa kek kampanye pemilu? Yah, kalo dijanjiin UN dihapus siapa yang nggak seneng coba? CALEG, JANJIIN ITU DONG!

How is your day going?
Sexyback - Justin Timberlake
Rawrr... Lol. I'm not a pervert, I swear!

You invented something. What is the advertising slogan?
Roxanne - Sting
You don't have to put on your dress tonight! Karena gue menciptakan kapsul kehidupan jadi manusia gak usah keluar dari kapsul itu dan bisa melakukan segalanya dari dalam, gak pake baju pun oke, gak ada yang liat. Praktis kan?

What is your worst enemy thinking about you right now?
Shape of Things to Come - Audioslave
MUAKAKAKA!!! Damn right! Fear me!

What is the tagline of a movie all about your life?
Wavin Bye to the Train or the Bus - Arctic Monkeys
So long! Farewell! Adieu! Yah, gue melambai pergi setelah meninggalkan jejak-jejak yang berarti. Lol.

How will you die?
The Game of Love - Michelle Branch ft. Santana
Gue mati korban cinta. Ich, geuleuh amat. Yea, gue mati nelen baygon karena diputusin ato loncat ke dalem kali ciliwung dan mati keselek sampah yang nyumbat. =____=

What did you think when you met your best friend?
Heart Like a Wheel - The Corrs
Ach, bosen. Ugh. Eh, tapi... Wew. Nyih, playlist gue ternyata banyak lagu mellow menyek-menyek. Haha. Intinya, gue jatuh cinta ama sahabat gue, gitu?

What is your future spouse going to think about while you get married?
Something Sublime - Anggun
Kok kayaknya seakan suami gue kayak pasrah gitu pas mo nikah ama gue? Dari benda padat terus menyublim pas di depan penghulu. Jangan sampe aja dia berani-beraninya kentut pas mau ijab kabul.

What will someone say about you at your funeral?
Holy Virgin - Groove Coverage
No joke! Ya ampyun~~ I'm the holy virgin! Anjir gue dipuja-puji setinggi langit! Ahai-ahai! Ach! Tapi apa itu artinya gue akan mati sebagai perawan tua?? NOOOO!

What is your motto in life?
The Dynamo of Volition - Jason Mraz
Oh. Wow. Cocok! Gimme the high five!

What is your fortune in the fortune cookie?
Out of My Mind - James Blunt
Gue akan jadi gila bentar lagi. Lol.

What is written in the next love letter you recieve?
Everything's Just Wonderful - Lilly Allen
Oh God. Kalo gue nerima surat cinta kayak begini gue langsung minta putus. Jadi menurut lo gue gendut, HEH?!

How do you greet other people?
Eyes Like Yours - Shakira
Ketipan maut dong ach~ Mata mengatakan segalanya. Nyakakak. Nuff said.

Ok. Let's see punya yang laen...

Di Malam Buta

There is one in a two-three step
There's a breach, that was meant a trap
A collie barked, the master swayed
The crook came in hushed
Then a hole, splatters of paint on the wall
The Remington talks

Kejem

Kejem.

Gue dipanggil Ponari.

Iya. Bener. Ponari. Lo nggak salah baca kok (=____=)

Dan sebenarnya ini udah berita lama karena nama terkutuk udah dikasi dari minggu lalu sih. Tapi tetep aja gue masih bergidik tiap gue dipanggil.... 'Ponari'. Ya Tuhan... Gue salah apa?! Mulainya sih gara-gara satu malem gue lagi muak belajar jadinya gue merantau ke lantai satu, ke kamar bokap nyokap (yang tv di dalemnya gede naujubile dibandingin tv di kamar gue) dengan satu tujuan untuk nonton ftv (mencari Jeremy Dufour di Paris Men Fashion Show Winter '09 >3 ) tapi terlihat nyokap gue tergolek tak berdaya, meriang kebanyakan kerja. Seperti biasa~sebagai anak yang baik gue merasa iba dong, jadilah gue otomatis mijetin kaki nyokap gue. Nyokap mulai mengeluarkan suara-suara aneh terus nyuruh gue mijetin punggungnya juga sekalian. Iya, iya, gue manut aja tapi kan lama-lama tangan pegel. Dan di sinilah bencana dimulai...

Dari dulu emang tangan gue suka mengeluarkan panas yang nggak jelas, padahal guenya biasa-biasa aja tapi tangan gue bisa panas banget sampe gue biasa nempelin tangan ke dinding biar rada dingin-an. Untungnya tangan gue bisa bawa untung juga contohnya waktu kemaren kita sekeluarga pergi ke Yogyakarta dan nyokap gue kena diare parah, nah, tangan gue dipake buat ngangetin perut nyokap yang selain masuk angin juga sakit ga karuan. Udah kayak penghangat portabel aja gitu. Kemaren juga kejadiannya mirip begitu. Tangan gue panas banget dan pas gue lagi ngangetin punggung nyokap gue ada berita Ponari di tv.

"Mbak. Mbak Itta nanti mau ibu ceritain ke ibu-ibu lain, ah."
"Hah? Ceritain gimana, bu?"
"Iya ini, tangannya sakti bisa panas kayak begini."
"...."
"Bisa nyembuhin macem-macem penyakit."
"...."
"Nah terus kita cari wartawan."
"...Hah?"
"Bikin pengobatan alternatif, kan kayak Ponari itu tuh."
*tercengang*
"Iiiiih! Serius, Mbak! Itu si Ponari dapet ampe 2 milyar!"

Dan bokap gue mesti ikut-ikutan.

"Ini kan bentuk pengobatannya lebih nyata, Mbak. Panasnya bisa nyembuhin, kemarin Ayah flu gitu Mbak Itta pegang sembuh kan!"
"Iya, ini Ibu juga sakit pegel-pegel langsung seger!"
"......."
"Lagian itu rambutnya udah mirip Ponari, Mbak!"

--------APA?!

"INI RAMBUT HALLE BERRY, AYAH! PONARI DARI MANANYA?!"

Bokap gue tuh ya.... Wedges dibilang wajik. Summer dress dibilang kemben. Kardigan dibilang jaket. Beda tau, Yah!! Beda! DAN RAMBUT GUE!!! Lalu, lalu... Sampe tadi pagi nama terkutuk itu masih disebut-sebut. Gue lagi baca majalah NG yang baru di ruang tamu waktu bokap gue melenggang kangkung keluar kamar kerja.

"Pon, Pon, mau cari makan nggak?"

....Gue menggigit lengan bokap gue dengan beringas lalu mencabuti bulu kakinya sampe dia minta ampun... Gapapa. Abis itu gue dikasi sajen a.k.a. disuap pake duit. *Ketawa setan* Belum lagi, gue berhasil merayu bokap untuk mengisi kartu flash gue lagi >3 *Senyum bahagia* Inilah enaknya ama bokap. Kalo ama nyokap minta duit susahnya minta ampun. Minta uang kecil buat naik angkot beneran dikasi uang kecil. Kalo ama bokap.... Muhuhuhu. Triknya adalah begini:

"Yah, berangkat dulu ya. Mau les."
"Ada duit ga?"
"...Adalah~"
"Hoo, nih tambah nih."
"Gak, Yah, gak usah. Mbak Itta duitnya cukup kok." << harus nolak-nolak dulu, tampang tegar walo tongpes.
"Buat jaga-jaga, perlunya berapa?" << bokap langsung terlihat iba.
"...Hmm. Sepuluh aja buat angkot." << minta jumlah yang kecil aja.
"Hm. Nih."

Dan gue melihat Bung Karno dan Bung Hatta. Muakakak.

"Segitu cukup gak?"
*Buru2 ngusap iler di ujung bibir*

Ehem. Well, yah gitulah, kejem gak tuh sama anak perempuan sendiri mengatakan begitu? Gue udah cukup punya krisis percaya diri tanpa perlu ditambah-tambahin kalo rambut gue mirip Ponari (T_________T) Lagian, please deh, ini rambut Halle Berry, keren ah menurut gue. Gue bisa pake gel ama hairspray ditata gitu tiap pagi, cepet lagi, ga perlu disisir, wuih gue suka banget. Dan bokap gue merengek-rengek gue manjangin rambut lagi.

Ah. Terus gue antara merasa bersalah ama gatel juga nih. Tadi sore pas bokap gue baru pulang, gue kan langsung turun dari tempat semedi a.k.a. kamar tidur gue untuk salam ma cium bla-bla-bla. Terus bokap gue bilang.

"Mbak, tadi dikasi ini nih ama Tante Novi."
"Kasih apa?"
"Ini, lucu deh, cocok buat Mbak Itta katanya."
"Apaan, Yah?"
*Dari ujung mata gue, gue melihat sebuah benda asing berwarna menjijaykan*
"Mbak Itta mau gak dompet lope-lope?"

*BUGH*

Astagfirullah. Adoh, adoh! Sumpah gue nggak sengaja, tapi tangan gue langsung mukul perut bokap gue (yang notabene amat tambun dan tangan gue langsung membal) bahkan sebelum benda pink cerah itu diberikan pada gue. Aduh, Ayah, maaaaaaap!! Gue beneran gak sengaja, otomatis aja badan gue bergidik dan tangan gue bergerak sendiri saat gue melihat jelas bentuk dompet pink itu. Untung karena perutnya tambun, bokap gue bahkan gak merasakan apa-apa. Akhirnya gue menguatkan diri dan menerima dompet itu, ujung sebelah mata gue berkedut-kedut aneh. Nyokap gue dateng dengan santai.

"Ibu udah bilang ke Tante Novi padahal, gak usah. Tapi katanya pasti cocok ama Mbak Itta---"

Kata-kata nyokap gue pasti menghilang saat melihat wajah gue yang lagi memegangi dompet pink berbentuk hati itu. Si Ino keluar dari kamar mandi.

"INO! No, nih buat Ino aja. Mbak Itta gak--"
"Igh. Mbak Itta sakit ya?"

Hum. Iya sih, mana mungkin si Ino mau (wajahnya itu loh, gue merasa kayak gue baru aja menghina dia ato gimana gitu). Terus gue inget gue punya ponakan namanya Dinda, masih tk dan imut banget. Nah, kalo dia pasti mau, nanti gue kasihin ah pas dia maen ke sini.

Ah, ya. Sekarang ini gue akhirnya mengendap lagi di kamar gue seorang diri. Tadi sih lagi seneng-seneng aja nonton Discovery di bawah ama yang laen sampe...

"Pon, Pon, pijitin dong~"

That's it. Kejem. Hiks.

101 Things

Iseng :3 Ambil dari blognya Mida XD

YOU
001. Real name → Praditta Anandika Pursadin
002. Like it? → I don’t have a choice here, you know. Lol. Yea, I like it.
003. Nickname(s)→ Prad, Prat, Pret, Mpret, Prada, Ditta, Itta.
004. Status → jomblo gitu?
005. Zodiac sign → Libra
006. Male or female → …you decide *grins* Naah.. female, all the way.
007. Elementary→ SD Bina Insani
008. Middle School → SMPN 1 Bogor
009. High School → SMAN 1 Bogor
010. Hair color → black
011. Long or short → very short
012. Eye color → black
013. Weight → 58 kg
014. Height → 170 cm
015. Righty or lefty → Righty
016. Loud or Quiet → Quiet
017. Sweats or Jeans → Jeans
018. Phone or Camera → Phone
019. Health freak → No.
020. Piercings?→ I’m getting one again, the old ones are completely closed now
021. Do you have a crush on someone? → I guess
022. Eat or Drink → Both. But I enjoy eating more
023. Purse or Backpack → Purse!
024. Tattoos → I’d like one but no.
025. Do You Like Yourself? → To the point that it becomes unhealthy.
026. Current worry? → Getting fat. j/k. I’m worried about my tests.


THIS OR THAT
027. Orange or Apple Juice? → Orange
028. Night or Day? → Both. These days I like the day—only when it’s still bright outside I have no worries that I still have time to play around before I have to start studying when the sun sets.
029. Sun or Moon? → Sun. The moon is too small from here; it’s not really fun to pretend that you can observe its beauty with naked eyes. I enjoy it either when it sets or rises.
030. TV or Internet? → Internet.
031.PlayStation or XBox? → How about Wii? :3
032. Kiss or Hug? → Both, I do it everyday anyway.
033. Iguana or Turtle? → Iguana.
034. Spider or Bee? → Spider
035. Fall or Spring? → Right now—spring. I love spring rains.
036. Limewire or iTunes? → Dun care, but Limerwire probably.
037. Soccer or Baseball? → Soccer.


FIRSTS
038. First surgery → Never.
039. First piercing → On my ears.
040. First best friend → Mia.
041. First Sport? → Hmm. Like sport as in game? Soccer.
042. First award → Juara ke-3 Kartini-an in my playgroup. Lol.
043. First crush → Dun remember… Ah, I think… It’s Stuart Townsend :3
044. First pet → A cat. I named her Lutung.
045. First big vacation → When we went to Lombok.
046. First big birthday → Dun remember. I don’t celebrate it.

CURRENTLY
047. Eating → Astor.
048. Drinking → Coke Zero and water.
049. I'm about to → Play around until I can’t escape my chemistry book.
050. Listening to → Tukang kue putu di depan rumah dan burung.
051. Singing? → Hell no.
052. Typing? → Yes.
053. Waiting for → Nothing and no one in particular.

YOUR FUTURE
054. Want kids? → Eventually I will want some.
055. When? → Not now.
056. Want to get married? → I guess.
057. When? → Not soon.
058. Where Do You Want To Live? →Hmm… Somewhere nice where I can find and do the
stuff I like.
059. Careers in mind → Architect—an author or a script writer. Actually I want to be a museum curator.
060. What Did You Want To Be When You Were Little? → The first female president in Indonesia. And that Megawati took it before I grow old enough.
061. Mellow Future Or Wild? → Mellow, I guess, but I won’t hope to high.
062. Something You Would Never Try? → Err… drugs?

WHICH IS BETTER WITH BOY?
063. Lips or eyes → Lips, please. When I took off my glasses, I wouldn’t be able to see their eyes anyway, so might as well look for something I can feel.
064. Shorter or taller? → Taller, of course.
065. Romantic or spontaneous → Ergh. Not both.
066. Nice stomach or nice arms → Arms.
067. Sensitive or loud → I don’t like extremes. Just in between.
068. Hook-up or relationship → Depends.
069. Trouble maker or hesitant → I want someone bold enough to take the risk and very smart to know it will bring us profit.
070. Hugging or Kissing? → Usually it comes in a packet, so I don’t have a say.
071. Tan Skinned or Light? → Tan.
072. Dark or Light Hair? → Dark.
073. Muscular or Normal? → Slightly muscular will be appreciated :3

HAVE YOU EVER
074. Lost glasses/contacts → Yeap.
075. Ran away from home → To my grandma’s, does it count? I was going to ran to my aunt’s in Bali but my savings weren’t sufficient at that time.
076. Held a gun/knife for self defense?→ No.
077. Killed somebody → No.
078. Broken someone's heart → Yes.
079. Been arrested → No.
080. Cried when someone died? Yes.
081. Kissed A Stranger? → No. I don't wanna get herpes or something like that.
082. Climbed Up A Tree? → Yes.
083. Liked A Friend As More Than A Friend? → Hmm. Yes.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN
084. Yourself → not really.
085. Miracles → Yes.
086. Love at first sight → No.
087. Heaven → Yes.
088. Santa Claus → No.
089. Kiss on the first date → Yes.

ANSWER TRUTHFULLY
090. Is there one person you want to be with right now → Hmm. Yes?
091. Do You Like Someone? → Yes.
092. Are you seriously happy with where you are in life → Yeah
093. Do you believe in God → Yes.

LASTS
094. Recieved/Sent Text Message → Raka. Wanted me to call him etc, etc.
095. Received Call → Sigi. The usual, guess I out-sleep her this time.
096. Call Made? → Ino. I asked her to pick me up.
097. Comment On MySpace? → I don’t have MySpace, are you crazy? My parents have one, they can tap my secrets from it if I have one.
098. Missed Call? → Raka. I didn’t answer, so probably he decided to call me.
099. Person You Hung out With? → Like right now? I don’t hang out. Not until this hell hole is over.
100. Post as 100 truths and tag → Done.
101. Something you wish for right now → Graduating high school and get into the university
that I want.

Surat Wasiat

"What the hell..."
"Please. Spare this poor girl from your constant cynicism, love."
"What the hell are you writing? Is that a will?"
"You can read."
"I know I can read. Wait. Oh God... I knew it. I knew it! I've been suspecting that you're a closet emo, but I never thought you'll be so stupid to even think about killing yourself."
"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not an emo. My hair is black, and I don't wear eyeliners, it's just I don't sleep enough lately and I'm wearing a pink shirt right now."
"From the looks, you don't look like it, but you do brood like one. That's why I call it a closet emo."
"The word is very degrading, honey, can't you just say depressed or something? It's not even the right term, I'm not depressed whatsoever."
"You've been ignoring me these past five days, you've been abnormally immersed in something you don't usually do, you talked in your sleep, you ate like a robot, you cringed all the time, you ran away to your grandma's and do I have to continue myself?"
"...I'm... I'm lost."
"You are depressed!"
"...I'm having a test, bubblegum."
"...For God sake. If you ever call me with that name again..."
"What name, honeybee?"
"I swear I'm gonna..."
"That's how I feel every time you call me emo."
"...Okay, fine. You got your point."
"I always have my point."
"So all this time you're acting strange because you're having a test?"
"I'm not the brightest bulb, so I've been working my butt off to pass the test and it's not even close. You've been distracting me all the time I couldn't study when you're around."
"So that time when you went to your grandma's house, it's not because you're mad at me?"
"You seriously think I'll do something that childish? If I were mad at you, I'm not gonna go to my grandma's house. I can simply kick you out."
"Do you have to be so mean?"
"I'm not mean, in fact, I'm very generous. See, I left everything I have for you in my will."
"The will! Why in the hell are you writing a will? You said you're not depressed, not an emo, as far as I know your health record is clean, so why the hell do you need a will?"
"...In case I failed the test."
"What the fuck..."
"Mom's not gonna be happy."
"...Oh dear. Are you so concerned about the test result? It's not gonna be that bad and don't smile like that, it gave me the creep."
"You know, it's really not healthy for me to be around you."
"You can't rid of me, you know that."
"I wouldn't anyway. Oh well, adios now. I'm going to my lesson course."
"I always forget that you're still in school."
"Not long."
"It's been too long."
"Anyway... Throw the will away."
"Getting rid of the evidence, hm? You're getting your confidence back?"
"Nope. I'm just thinking, that if I really fail the test, I'm just gonna take my savings and went somewhere."
"...Spoiled brat."

Doh.

"Shut the phone off."
"Dah."
"So what did he say?"
"He's unhappy, that's all I can say."
"Hmph. I bet he is. Tell me more, tell me about the details."
"I don't wanna talk about this right now."
"Yet you're calling these people. What are they to you that I am not?"
"I'm looking for some moral support here... An area which you depraved badly."
"And which you glad I'm bad at. Do you want me to go all lovey-dovey with you?"
"I shudder at the thought."
.........................
"Do you feel bad?"
"About?"
"This. About this thing."
"...I guess. It's not as bad as I thought. I'm always the one who got dumped, so this is quite a change."
"With your mentality, I'd thought you're gonna have one hell out of it."
"Surprisingly not. I'm quite composed now ain't I?"
"Stop painting please, it's not gonna work."
"...You know me too well sometimes."
"You're not in the mood. If you keep on trying to make it work, you're just gonna end up ruining it. Besides, in this situation, I thought you're gonna be more upset if your painting is ruined than having to deal with that man one more time."
"I try to have no regrets."
"When did you ever?"
"Too many times, I've lost count."
"Will you not just be still and let me hug you?"
"Say, love, do you know which part of our body is the oldest?"
"What? Your heart? Brain?"
"Close. Brain cells. Your memory. When other cells were replaced, your memory is the only thing remain the same. The oldest part, is where your first memory is. When you forget about something, that means that part of you has died and has been replaced.."
"What exactly are trying to tell me?"
"You're quite dense, are you?"
"Far from it. But you tend to lead people to get the wrong idea, so I've stopped trying to guess what you're trying to say and just make you say it bluntly."
"...I'm waiting for that part to die."
"You're not on drugs or something, aren't you?"
"Honey. I love myself too much."
"At times like this, I'm glad you're such a self-centered, egotistical prick."
"You're being redundant and I don't have a prick, sweetheart."
"A non-existent prick, then. Well, at least I don't have to worry that you'll go all out emo and try to kill yourself."
"When did I ever become an emo? I love my life. I love many things, I love you."
"So you're trying to forget it?"
"I will eventually."
"That easy, huh?"
"Human mind is really a convenient thing."
"I wouldn't say that. How would you explain our conversation then?"
"Can't you just accept the way things are?"
"I don't have a say in this."
"Good. So do shut up, love, I'm trying to paint here."
"...You're such an ass..."

Lunch

Hello again.

Okay, fine, I know I had just written an entry in like a few hours ago—but in that short time many things could happen. For starters, my mother had just called me when I was fresh out of the shower. I was still clad in towel when she announced that she was going to have a lunch out and was wandering if I’d like to come too. I obliged and she directed me to dress up and be ready when she came to pick me up. Sorting out through my wardrobe while on the phone with a friend, picking which clothes would look best to accentuate my mood—which is eerily serene for some reason that time—the rain started drizzling outside.

There was a tree in front of my house, already dead since years ago, but it was lush green with the big leafy plant of unknown origin hugging the dead-tree; its trunk was charcoal black, burnt not from fire but from death caused by my father. Lol. One day, a long time ago, my house was infested by pack of rats, those big black disgusting pests, and those critters made a nest on my lawn so my father fought back in his own weird way. Not with mouse traps or poison, but with a jug of formaldehyde. He poured that whole jug into the rat hole, killing them thoroughly and perhaps preserving the carcasses too, and in the same time killing all the plants in our lawn. For three years nothing would grow on it but rocks and pebbles. My mother decided to arrange an array of rock beds on it. But it has healed now and plants could grow.

Anyway, it was really pretty outside. I wish this rainy season could last longer, but I just heard that the worst tide has passed last Tuesday and it will come to an end in a couple of weeks, perhaps. The season was changing and the sun will appear ever more often, it will be too harsh for me to walk outside again, so I’m planning to enjoy the last seconds of the season, the airy breeze and wet scenery, the ardent green and tingling drops. A car parked outside, I put some perfume and a thin gloss on my lips before I head out.

Both of my parents were there, dressed casually as they always were, my mother was into fried duck today and my father goat curry. I said I’m going with anything. A short ride with my parents usually is flat and uneventful, although some time not. Like today, somehow the topic about grandchildren were brought up and we end up arguing of how my children would call my parents. My mother insisted that she’d like to be called Mbah, said it sounded intimate. But my father refused to be called that, said it sounded like some witch doctors and preferred Eyang instead. I picked the middle line, offered that I shall teach my future children to call my father Babah. Mother laughed so hard, the name kind of fitting to my father since he does look like a Chinese descendant a little bit. I’ve once told my father that he looks like a Hong Kong mafia if he grew his moustache a bit longer, not that I ever know how Hong Kong mafia looks likes.

The conversation grew wilder, since the grandchildren are still non existent and I’m planning not to reproduce in a short time… So we went on talking about the matters of inheritance which soon brought up a discussion about why the farming in Indonesia is only subsistent, causing a chain reaction of unstable economy in a broader view. The tendency to split up lands, dividing it equally between the children left by the parents, for example if a farmer owned a land of ten hectares and had five children, when he died, the land was divided equally amongst the children that are left. My mother argued that this is the cause of why the production was cut short and the farming no longer gives profit to the farmers. I could extend the explanation but I think it will tire some of you out. I personally thought the discussion was interesting, even argued back with my own theory that the source of problem is that we simply reproduce too much and that people with low education should be banned from having children as much as they want because they simply replicating low-skilled human resource, unable to provide good education and all.

Even when we were having lunch, we still talked about another trivial thing. For example, the simplicity of Javanese name and the odd tendencies for people nowadays to name their children with heavy names unfit to their surrounding. My father talked about the traits of most Javanese back then to know their standing and think that they need not to use such a grand name when in fact they were but commoners. How the name Bambang back then were served only for grander, more royal blood than commoners. And to see how nowadays people with charred, burnt skin and plain looks have name as delicate as Cynthia, Fairish, Nadia—basically, I think the names invented by teenlit writers are simply frivolous. How many people lose their roots even to the most principal of the matter like names. I think I’ve read it somewhere about the same matters in a more European setting of how can a commoner took the name of Alphonse and Alfred while the royals took a more common name such as George and John. The name trend displayed the wide arrange of low self esteem and how people tried to make themselves grander than life. Like a peasant unable to accept their faith as a commoner, unsatisfied, and angry of their fated lives. Like a girl with dark, dry and rough skin with ordinary face that dream for a prince on a white horse. Common, Indonesian girl, my age, that dream for some ridiculous romance and even had the guts to write it down. Brave girls indeed, they are. Some that has forgotten their roots just like I do, that took up foreign influence and forgot where they’re come from. I, myself, admire those with delicate traditional names.

Like my mother’s name, Kania, and my grandmother’s name, Ida. My sister’s name is Faradina and my cousins took up the name of Anggraito, Isa, Latifah, Annisa, Mugia, etc. My father was called Adin in personal surroundings. Even in my family there are names unfit, maybe humble in the beginning but changed gradually. Like my father’s oldest sister. Born Hartati, and when she converted into Catholic, baptized as Maria Theresia. Another cousin of mine was named Daviel and Diva. Or my mother’s sister from another father named Imelda Geraldine, but that name does fit her really well. Aunt Mia—I nicknamed her that—was indeed a beauty, a tall, dark skinned woman, really exotic. Pretty ironic. I like traditional names better; I like the unusual ones, but not the westernized names or the weird names invented by some cheesy romantic souls. Some poor mother that was once in their teenage years craved for some unrealistic romance and unable to obtain it, channeled their pitiful dreams into their children.

My father commented suddenly about my hair, said that he preferred it longer. I stood my ground and said that this new hair do suits me more than the last one. He said I looked like a sick person, more suitably, a cancer patient recovering from chemo. Ah, mostly because he thinks of this haircut as a boy cut. Lol. I laughed at him. I might be called boy-like, but I wasn’t a tomboy. I had curves more woman-like than any in my year, my short hair helped me showed off my neck which in my opinion made me look thinner. And today I was wearing a pink tee with lavender tanks under, very fitting with beige baggy pants, yellow flats, and glossy lips. I looked like a girl. I embraced my nature even more truly than ever with this short hair compared to the version before.

We suddenly talked about the dead Geodesy student from ITB. My mother was very worried and reminded me to stand up if ever I was bullied. I looked at her dumb stricken, asked if she never thought that it might be more suiting that I was the evil senior and not the victim. She brought up the subject of the past of how I was bullied and got depressed, unable to say no. Now I wonder how I’ve changed so much over the years, but how people really took me as the same person. I mean, if now I will ever be bullied in any way, I wouldn’t hesitate to talk them back. Maybe I need to restrict myself since sometime my instinct told me to say the meanest thing I’m able to spurt out. I slurred casually of how the seniors—the senior girls—might all be shorter and weaker than me. Look weaker, I mean. So why should I be afraid of them? They’re not the ones that pay for my tuition, they’re not people I look up to, they’re even probably not better than I am. They’re probably just girls with low self esteem that needs to be recognized as a powerful authority to compensate their sorry existence. I am a sorry creature myself, and I’m selfish enough not to help others of my kind to be better, to feel better about themselves.

The meal was done and we head home. I commented about an old man in the way, a tall, hard looking man with gray thick moustache and white hair. Said I’d once imagined I could have a grandfather like that, a scary looking old man, very grapy but not to me, the granddaughter. My father said jokingly, a dreary fact of how I was born to the world already without grandfathers and only a grandmother to dote on me. I said I could always dream. Told him too that I’d like a grandpa like Santa, how I planned to make my father a fat jolly grandfather to my future children if I ever had children later. My mother told me some story about her own grandfather. Aki Jarnuji, or that’s how he was called. He was feared by everyone, a martial art coach that never holds his punches towards his pupils. And the little tidbits like how he likes anchovies so much and always kept a jar full of them. My mother and Uncle Bobby used to steal some of the anchovies every time they could, risking the anger of the Terrible Aki Jarnuji.

The conversation went on. It disappeared quickly from my mind. Some bits about Chinese Falun Gong. An opposition suppressed by the communist government. Some of their followers were captured; some came out with mysterious stitches on their body, marking that some of their organs might be taken without their consent, kidneys mostly. Ah, yes, we were talking about how easy to have an organ transplant in China. How the big population supply an endless amount of fresh organs from the dead for the people rich enough to afford it.

Many more I could write down. But my sister is very persistent in the moment to have my laptop for herself. Not long ago, her friends came over and I was very distracted from my writing that I joined them instead of finishing this. So for now… I’ll put it in hiatus.

Vanity

I woke up this morning with a major headache and a parched throat. It’s already foreseen the night before, since I’ve had my share of roughened voice and inability to swallow those delicacies I love the most, so I snuggled up under my blanket and told my maid to fetch for my mother when she’s awake. I could barely lift my head. The next thing I knew was my mother lying beside me, checking up if I had a fever—I did, slightly—while my sister had just finished showering and was putting clothes on. I wanted to go to school, really, there’s a physic class which I hate the most and failed miserably and needed badly before the evaluation next week.

I skipped it. It’s only normal for me to. Mother brought up the topic I hate the most; I pretended I was dozing off so she left me on my own devices. Was it so wrong for me to keep avoiding these problems? I’m facing a big thing in front of me, entrance tests over tests over and over again, I can’t afford any failure these days so why should I let these stuff distract me all the time? Since I already have a good share of distraction anyway, including this laptop, I was doing some math problems a couple of minutes ago. Well, now, I’m not as helpless as I was before; I guess my mother’s chicken soup really rejuvenated me. She put a whole lot of pepper in it, just how I like it, and she accompanied me gorging through the breakfast banquet while she answered phone calls with a voice full of authority and rigidity. I sipped the broth; my mother’s a boss indeed. I was eating while reading through some interesting articles in the newspaper when my mother suddenly snapped about some trivial stuff.

I liked the way how big my mother look, how important she was among the pile of works and bustling agendas around her. She was very timid in nature, perhaps, I mean, she cringed when she saw horrible news on the telly, she hates violent movies and all; she likes the soft romantic stuff. She once had a range of Barbara Cartland’s books, but also in the contrary, at the same time she didn’t mind the darker and more violent books. Books. Historical, tragic, romantic books—not romance, but romantic. I think she likes epics—and wouldn’t mind the violence as long as there was this sense of grandiose in it. But she was also quick on her temper. And have I mentioned how I resemble those qualities?

I was a different individual altogether. But they say the apple won’t fell too far from the tree. And although it was my sister that my mother dotes on most of the time, I was more like her than my sister ever was. So there was this irony to realize that we were so much alike and in the same time so different as if we came from different planets. I guessed I was the more romantic here; my mother was more realistic and practical. Or is it because the age gap? That over the years that dreamy girl had gradually changed and become this principal woman—it never crossed my mind to ever asked my mother the minute details of what she has been through in the past that might have contributed on how she was shaped now. Self-precaution, I guess. I, myself, would never want anyone to pry on my business. I will tell when I want to, and it works the same way on my mother. She told me anyway, the censored version. She left out the infuriating details—perhaps in order to protect my innocence which is in fact was already non existent but my mother shan’t know about it—but she stressed on some parts really carefully. About karma, of how all the bad things will caught up and punished those who are wrong and blessed those who have been wronged. T’was a very brutal judgment, how indifferent my mother was when she delivered this knowledge to me.

You see, I live in a sheltered life created by two poor people with simple dream of having a small house on their own and a happy-cartoonish-50s-like family. Well, so far, it’s pretty much like that—with several turbulence—although it might be a bit dysfunctional in the long run since the father had a bloated ego and a selfish sense of rightness—not to mention the horrible choice of vocabulary spurted out in anger which resembles the choice of words of a lowly common thugs, the mother a constricted view of traditional values and trapped in a cycle of hell, the first daughter was a closeted emo with some issues of distorted moral views, and the second daughter had a tough outlook but a very low self-esteem in the inside. But we function normally anyway. And happy too.

Back to topic—if there was any since the beginning. It comes vividly in my mind, the conversation that night about how karma works and how it was realized among the living. It’s not only a fairy tale; stories such as how those who eat the wealth of fatherless children will be doomed in hell. There was hell on earth, with different version for each person, but it did happen. And my parents are the wronged here, so with those people had been punished accordingly, their faith were very much squared. Is it because of my infatuation with the theme of angel of providence, that these events my mother recited had fueled my imagination wild with expectation that there is providence such as that? And my mother—once the dreamer too maybe—touched by the hands of justice, became rigid and somber, no more the fragrant frilly girl, and brought out to the harsh world there is outside. Will it be the same future awaits me? That one day I too will lose all the frivolousness and become the hard-tempered woman? No more vivid imagination and wild expectations—

Floods, in whose more than crystal clarity, Innumerable virgin graces row.

—that was a line I’ve read somewhere. And the flood will be stopped by a dam someday, and I, the dried old maid.

Oh, hush! I’ve been writing nonsense! But I am vain indeed, or craved for attention perhaps, or just want to write? Who are you to judge me and who am I too care your opinion? I will babble as much as I like and some of you will like me still and some will think me an idle brainless fool. We still breathe the same air anyway, so you’re not better than I am and vice versa. The same way with my mother and I. We read the same books, eat the same food, live under the same roof, but live a very different life—past and the future. We only have the present with us. My mother, I, you, us. The question of self existent and how much we are valued on the eyes of others will forever haunt us—or me? It shouldn’t be a bother, a grown up should meddle on a more important things. Even teenagers with tons of angst should think of a more creative way on ending their lives. I meddle with this trivial stuff, with no way to forward or retreat. I’m stuck in the moment and this moment of clarity was blurred with worries and reality. The time of idleness perhaps has come to an end… Well, too bad, really, I was having a nice dream.

Adiksi

Lols. Kenapa gue suka kuis beginian ya? Low self-esteem? Yang jelas, toh hasilnya selalu sama—dan anehnya gue selalu mencoba lagi dan lagi! FYI aja, untuk intelejensi jamaknya, keahlian gue dalam body/kinestetik bahkan ga perlu dimasukin saking rendahnya. Hahaha!

Wait a sec

Kemarin gue bangun tidur jam 11 malem, itu udah alamat pasti gue akan susah tidur sampai setidaknya subuh dulu. Dan rasanya mendung di depan gue sedang amat pekat-pekatnya, adanya gue terseret-seret antara tidur dan sadar, setengah terikat sama mimpi dan setengahnya dipaksa hadapin kenyataan. Aih, aih, gue masih males menelpon orang itu—ataupun membalas sms-sms indah yang dikirim tanpa pamrih— jadi gue memutuskan untuk mengabaikan beberapa sms berbahaya itu dan langsung menanggapi pesan-pesan gak penting yang bisa mengalihkan perhatian gue.

Siapa sangka temanku sayang tiba-tiba menelpon? Put me to sleep, he said, read me poems. I obliged. That simple, I knew the routines, I knew how it works. My little darling, I always said.

“Make one for me, a poem. Afterall, I was your muse, once.”

I chuckled, relented, one poem for my little darling. He said, next time we met, he won’t be the little child anymore. I said good night, no answer from the other side and—click.

Suddenly I need a drink.

Ah, gue gak bisa minum-minum. So I opt for another one, to call my other darling. I’m single, by the way, in case someone questioned my fidelity. We were dragging the conversation as long as we could, treading on fine lines between boredom and need, I guess, I was very much depressed at the time. But how lovely she was, like an oasis for the parched traveler. Life is beautiful, as you are beautiful, my dear, I saw it, I saw it. I saw the colors and the bursts of light, I smelled the perfume. Drug me please, I need to get away.

“Uhm… Kalo gitu gue tidur ya.”

Do you expect me to beg her not to go? The light was out, the telly was buzzing on the background, my sister gently snored beside me, and my bed was calling. 2.30? Barely morn, should I get a coffee? I was still lonely, a crazy thought came, for me to call that person on the other side of the world—after all he would always be there for me. Eff, no. I went to sleep anyway, and suddenly the buzzing became too overwhelming. Too late, my body wouldn’t budge, it was already sleeping, but my mind was wide awake when a pair of arms circled around me and hugged me from behind. More like groping. I was like—eff. I could swear the thing or whatever it was, whispered something in my ear, and I couldn’t move or anything. I silently screamed and started praying vehemently—until I could move my body, literally jumped off the bed, too scared to look back what the hell that was groping me—but there was none. There was just my sister, sleeping on the other side.

And for some reason, I laughed. My heart was pounding, and I felt alive again. I tried to sleep again, this time I prayed properly, and tuck myself in for a two-hour nap before I had to wake up.

Dan hari gue turn out menjadi amat menyenangkan. Walaupun gue telat dan diceng-cengin guru—yang entah kenapa mereka bisa kenal gue?—terus tugas seni gue belum sama sekali. Matematika, sayang, kenapa hati gue tiba-tiba ringan begini hari ini? Ada yang noel pundak gue. Sasha.

”Prad, cabut agama yuk.”
”...Yuk.”

Tugas seni gue belum beres, lagian siapa yang mau dikeplak-keplak Pak Oma tanpa alasan? Serius, guru satu itu udah waktunya pensiun; antara gue gak ngerti dia lagi ngomong apa, ngerjain tugas lain bisa dikemplang tiba-tiba, tidur bisa dibentak-bentak. Gue dan Sasha ngedon lagi ke perpus, ngekorin Jemmy dan Desma—sorry Jem, Des, gue sih santai mancai, kalian tahu Sasha emang volumenya kenceng. Lol. Omong-omong Jemmy, nama lengkapnya Roy Jeremiah Pasaribu, orang Batak—kok gue berasa ini mirip ama seseorang yang temen gue kenal ya? Haha. Dan hari ini entah kenapa juga tiba-tiba segala kegiatan gue dihadiri oleh Jemmy. Gue memulai tugas kilat gue untuk seni diwarnai pertengkaran Sasha dan Jemmy—gue penengah netral aja.

“Praaaaad... Aduuuuh.... Gue salah gariiiiiiis.....”
“Jih, si Sasha, ama Mpret aja lo langsung kayak anak kecil gitu.”
“HEH! Jemmy, diem aja deh lo. Lo tuh bikin gue sakit mata aja tau.”
“Siapa yang mulai coba? Ya ga, Prad?”

“Err... Gue no-comment aja deh.”

Dan masih di kelas pun kebisingan dipimpin oleh Jemmy. Ada adu makan keripik setan—anjing2an itu keripik pedesnya bikin gue diare—antara Jemmy dan Zacky.

(Off the record, Zacky tuh anaknya jangkung dan lumayan cakep—fans berat Edward Cullen. Ya, bener, dan dia bukan gay. Pernah waktu itu si Zacky—Jeki—tiba-tiba pake gel rambut. Tumben-tumbenan, biasanya kan rambut dia bedhead begitu.

Indy: Jeki lo niru rambutnya Edward Cullen? <
Jeki : Egh, apaan sih. Biasa aja kali. *acak2 rambutnya asal, gaya cool, tp mulai sewot*
Seseorang yg lain: Emang rambutnya Edward begitu?
Jeki : Apaan sih! Nggak kali! *sewot*
Gw : *dengan tampang serius* Jek, kayaknya lo kurang banyak pake gelnya deh. Lo pake yang extra hard deh, ato apa tuh buat yang wet look gitu. Soalnya gue pernah coba, kalo yang biasa pasti hasilnya kurang bagus. Lagian Edward kan rambutnya rada kayak basah2 gitu dan lebih ngacung. *dengan sotoy, sambil memperagakan bak sales, tapi masih serius*
Jeki: *dengan muka sumringah* Iya, kan ya, Prad! Gue udah nyoba, tapi si Edward tuh rambutnya kan... bla3...

Sekelas: *Hening, menguping Jeki meracau panjang lebar mengenai Edward dan rambutnya.*)

Ga boleh minum, siapa paling cepet menang. Entahlah siapa yang menang, terakhirnya mereka kalap minum semua minuman yang bisa ditemukan di kelas. Pelajaran seni, gue kalap bersama yang lainnya pergi ke Matahari untuk nyari tukang fotokopi, Ipank ga mau dititipin, kalo mau gue pergi ama dia. Yah, payungnya kecil, gapapalah, toh kita berdua badannya ga gede-gede amat.

“PRAD! TITIP!”

Astaga. Jemmy.

“GAK! Kalo mau lo mesti ikut, Jem!”

Aduh, Ipank, mana muat, sayang, payung kecil begini buat bertiga—gue ama Ipank aja udah ngepas, sekarang ditambah si Jemmy yang gede begitu. Beneran kayak orang bego, Ipank ama Jemmy tuh minimal 180—dan Jemmy ukuran XL kali ya—itu payung sekempret. Dan jalan di depan katedral tuh sempit dan dipenuhi pedagang kaki lima dan ada jurang—aka. got mahagede—di sampingnya.

“Geser dong, Jem! Gue kan cewek!”
”Ah, yang penting kepalanya ga basah! Ini liat gue jalannya udah miring nih!”
”Oi oi oi! Ati-ati. Gue yang pegang tugasnya neh!”
”Aduh kita udah kayak orang bego.”
”Duh, di depan ada orang lewat tuh.”
”Ganti formasi, berjejer memanjang.”
”Apa sih, udah tendang aja.”
”Kejem, manuver dikit nih bisa—adoh, Jemmy, lo lebar banget sih!”
”Bego, anjing, itu selokan di sebelah kita oi! Kalo maen senggol kita yang masuk!”
“Prad, Prad, jangan ditarik gitu dong.”
”Biar kita rada cepetan, Jem.”
“WOOO WOO! Slow, Pank.”
“Eh, eh, ati-ati tuh orang gila rada...”

Tuhan, ada orang gila bersiap pipis di depan kami.

Yang jelas, kami berhasil memfotokopi tugasnya, menyelesaikannya tepat waktu dan berhasil pulang tanpa dicacah guru seni yang kecil-kecil galak juga. Ah, tapi gue suka Bu Dian. Kayaknya itu satu-satunya pelajaran refreshing gue deh, biarpun gue sampe mual-mual ngegaris karena kacamata gue belum ditambah silindris. Semua anak perempuan ada olahraga—gue? Dapet hari pertama. Mbabon bunting. Emoh saia. Dan duit gue abis, mau ke atm BCA ujan begini, males jalannya.

”Aduuuh... Cowok ada yang bisa gue tebeng ke arah BTM ga?”
”Tuh, Luki naek motor.”
”Luki, gw nebeng boleh gak?”
*Luki dengan senyum polosnya* ”Boleh, Prad, tapi sory gue ga boleh ngebonceng cewek.”

Wot de hel.

”Jah, hijab?”
”Iya hijab.”
”SI MPRET MAH COWOK KALI, LUK!”
”Kampret lo, Jem!”

Aduh, santun nian engkau Luki. Gue yang udik—atau pendosa banget karena ga pernah bergaul sama lingkup para saleh?—atau emang jarang banget ada cowok segitu ngejaganya? Toh gue berhasil menodong Jeki untuk ngebayarin gue angkot dulu sampe ke bank. Dan lagi-lagi ada Jemmy—dengan Jeki dan gue—seangkot. Oke, percepat. Tagihan gue belum muncul di pembayaran, dan gue udah ambil duit. Pergi les, ketemu anak-anak temen les lainnya di jalan, eh, dibayarin pula gue. Well, ternyata gue ga pernah sendirian-sendirian amat ya? Emang selalu ada aja yang sama gue, cuma gue sedang memasuki fase asosial yang biasanya... Mungkin ada satu dua yang selalu beredar di orbit gue seperti Sasha—dan Jemmy mungkin, mereka berantem non stop—dan beberapa orang yang amat gue sukai. Salah satunya nge-text gue, lagi-lagi sakit maag—kambuh lagi? Dulu guru les gue ada yang meninggal gara-gara maag kronis, tahu? Satu lagi mungkin sedang bergelung dalam kegelapan dan segelas kopi. Siapa lagi ya?

Wah. Banyak ternyata.

Lol.

-Sayang, u home?-

Sa-yang? Huh? Since when? Oh, wait. Gue juga sayang kok, in fact, gue juga sayang sama banyak orang.

-Lg les nie, plg jam 8-

Dia telpon. I thought, here we go again, and I was so happy I’d like to share the happiness with him. And he sounded happy.

“Dut! Lo gak bakal percaya kemaren malem gue mimpi apa!”

Gue ceritain.

“Itu gue.”
“Apa?”
“Itu gue.”
“...Wot de hel?”
*chuckle* “Kalo gue bilang gue bisa keluar dari badan gue? Gue bener-bener kangen elo kemaren, gue pengen peluk.”
”...Anjis. Gue sampe doa-doa, bego.”
”Harusnya itu anget tau!”
”Anget sih anget! Tapi gue merasa dilecehkan!” *tertawa*
”Gudut... Temenin gue sampe tidur dong malem ini...”
”Oke.”
”AH! Bisa telepon gue ga?”
”Ga bisa, say, pulsa gue sekarat.”
”Aduh aduuuuh pliiis pliiiss.... Bentaaar ajaa. 10 menit aja.”
”Ga bisa, darling.” *tertawa*
”AH! AH! Bentaran aja!”
”Ga bisa! Gue kemaren telepon dia kelamaan!”
”ARGH! Mati nih mati!!!”
”Ya udah, ya udah! Nina bobo~ O’oooh~~ Nina bobooo....”
”ACH!”

—Tut-tut-tu—

Hug me again tonight. I love you, mon frere.