Monday, September 26, 2016

Carpe Diem!

"So how are you doing?"
"I am fine, I guess. Living the moment, while I can. Met old friends, a bit lost in nostalgia. But that's how life goes, is not it? Constantly sad when you have to say goodbye to someone who is very close to your heart until you no longer know what sadness means."
"How about the future?"
"At first, I was thinking to settle or at least, to have a plan on what I am going to do for the coming years. But now, I do not care anymore. Continuing it if I feel like it, ending it if I am not. Keeping all options open."

Sunday, September 25, 2016


“You dream about your sheep and the Pyramids, but you’re different from me, because you want t realize your dreams. I just want to dream about Mecca. I’ve already imagined a thousand times crossing the desert, arriving at the Plaza of the Sacred Stone, the seven times I walk around it before allowing myself to touch it. I’ve already imagined the people who would be at my prayers we would share. But I’m afraid that it would all be a disappointment, so I prefer just to dream about it.” — Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist, p.57
The downfall of being a pessimist is that you constantly imagine the worst. When something good happen, you see it as an exception and if something bad happen, your pessimism kind of get a validation and you go deeper into the darkness. Of course, you have a dream but then again, you do not belief that it may come true, so rather than working on it, you prefer to dream about it. Idealizing the ideal, without trying to make it real.

Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Zero Sum Game

"But what if everything follows a zero sum game, it is either all or nothing?"
"Do you really believe in that?"
"I do not know. I really want to believe the opposite but sometimes, it is just so freaking difficult. He does not live nearby, he is not the romantic type, he never walks me home and we never talk about the future. I think I am done."
"So that's it?"
"Yeah, I don't think it's going to work."

Monday, September 05, 2016

5 Minutes

The seminar was almost started when he came in and took an empty seat next to me. He put his pen and his note book on the desk and listened to the presenter. His silence broke when he asked about how an universal model can accommodate Indonesian diversity. That was when I started to pay a better attention at him. Wavy hair, eyeglasses, a batik shirt and a dark pant. We talked for a bit before many people came to him. He gave me his phone number.

Monday, August 29, 2016

Mirror #2: A Girl and the Postman

"Do you want to have a coffee?" I blurted out.
"What did you say?" asked the postman surprised.
"I wonder whether you want to stay for a bit for a coffee," I continued with a stronger voice. I was not sure back then but after repeating the offer, the question sounded right. I met the postman more often than the postcard man and somehow, the postman started to become like a friend. A familiarity that emerged through seeing each other, even only though distance.

The postman looked a bit hesitant before he nodded. "I only have 6 letters left. I can stay for a bit."

It was strange to invite a stranger to your place. But is the postman a stranger I wonder. Probably, he was the only person who knew my obsession with the postcards. I told my friends that I have stopped expecting them but I could not. Only the postman knew the truth. A kind of a secret pact between me and him. No one knew and since he was half a stranger, I felt it was easier to talk to him. I liked the anonymity between the two of us. Probably, inviting him for a coffee would break our bond, he would no longer become a stranger to me and I was not sure I wanted that. But I did not want to be alone. Not after the empty postcard. A code for me to move on.

He wore a dark blue coat. I took it from him and hanged it next to the door.

"I will boil the water, you can sit there, while eating some cookies."

Outside the cloud started to pour waters. Rain. My favorite. And a stranger in my house.

Mirror #1: A Girl and the Postman

She was standing next to the gate when I passed her house. White dress, messy blonde hair and an unreadable face. She reminded me of an actress from a black-white movie: sad and melancholic. The weather seemed to complete the picture, a bit cloudy and windy. I wished I could cheer her up a bit but somehow, the picture did not look right. Having her smiling was like having a color in a black and white movie.

"Do you have a postcard for me?" she asked. A tone that I recognized as a combination of hope and despair.

I handed her the postcard that she asked and then suddenly, her expression changed. Her blue eyes were getting darker before tears emerged from the corner of her eyes.

"Thank you," she said with a trembling voice.

I stood there. I wanted to comfort her, saying things that could bring the tears away but I was not sure she would expect me to do it. Our interactions were strange. After couples of polite greetings, we started to have deeper conversation. I knew that she lived alone in the isolated house after her parents decided to move to another country. She has a little brother who liked to visit her once or twice per year. And that she always got a postcard from different places. 

I asked her once about the postcards and that was when her eyes got darkened. After that I never asked her about the postcards. Until this moment. I was tempted to cross the boundary again. To say to her that the world was not over. But then who was I to say those words to her. I was just an observer that wanted her to be happy.

Tuesday, August 23, 2016


the practice of concealing messages or information within other nonsecret text or data

The funny thing about a secret is that you want the right person to decode it. You hide it on a false date, a kind of steganography that may disguise others. But when no one notice the brilliant of it, you feel disappointed. There are traces, algorithm over algorithm, which allow you to find the real messages. However, there is a possibility that you get lost along the journey. You start to see the disguise as the real thing and you are no longer sure between the medium and the message.

Saturday, August 13, 2016


Kay membiarkan kopi hitamnya dingin. Rasa pekat yang biasanya membuat ia bersemangat, kini terasa terlalu menyengat. Pahit. Perasaan yang juga ia rasakan terhadap Kala, pria yang belakangan ini menjadi mimpi buruknya. Ia ingin pria itu bahagia tapi tidak dengan mengorbankan kebahagiannya sendiri.

Beberapa muda-mudi mengambil meja dekat Kay duduk. Ia memandang arlojinya, angka pendek mendekati angka 5, waktu orang-orang keluar kerja. "Mungkin aku harus mulai beranjak," pikir kay dalam hati. Ia tak pernah menyukai keramaian meski kadang ia suka bersembunyi dalam keramaian itu. Berada dalam kerumuman manusia untuk larut dalam pikirannya sendiri. Ia suka memandangi manusia. Menculik secuplik adegan dari apa yang ia lihat untuk kemudian menggubahnya dalam dunia imaji. Ia ingin semua orang bahagia, tapi entah kenapa ia merasa tertekan.

"Sudah mau beredar lagi Kay?" sapa Bagas ketika Kay membereskan laptop metaliknya.
"Yep, memberi ruang bagi pelanggan kamu selanjutnya. Ciao."

Suhu luar beranjak menurun meski masih terlalu panas untuk berjalan terlalu lama di luar ruangan. Masih ada satu tulisan yang harus ia selesaikan tapi pikirannya menolak untuk bekerjasama. Kala dan segala tindakannya membuat ia sakit kepala.