uni-verse • 71

I'm officially in uni now.

Defining my university orientation week: badly tanned (or worse, burned) skin, black and blue with bruises, and thousands of little (both significant and insignificant) things to remember. It is funny how a week feels like forever, but when it is over, you'll look back and stop and stare and wonder: I've done that? It's over now? So, this is the end?

Well.

It all started with seven dots and a dash (not in that particular order) and coordinates that points the city Michigan. Then, it was endless night without sleep with red and blue paper waiting to be intertwined, and unending supplies of laughs (and cries of frustation). Seventeen clueless motherfuckers and a furious mother hen trying to set us straight. Our person in charge must be a saint in another life, because he suffered through us and his temper survived. (Well, he is not that nice, but at least he never went Hulk-like, which is quite possible, given the circumstances.)

So, this is Henry Ford:

Henry Ford is a team you wanna hang out with, but wanna do assignments without. In a team, we are proli that one guy that just sat there while the rest of the group is frantically trying to do everything. It is uber fun with these guys, but Henry Ford aren't the nerd friends material, totally not those people you can ask to tutor you, or that reliable someone whose notes you can borrow when you nod off in class. You can count on Henry Ford when you're looking for some fun, or shoulders to cry on.

In a nutshell, we are nice, but very lazy.

Like nearly every time I made friends with someone, I can't pinpoint the exact time I fall for them. It could be from the very first `hi!` or the very first awkward smile, or the time spent together, exclaiming silly monikers (oleng, pemulung, bidadari, daur ulang, tukang becak, profesor joget, bidadari jahat—everything, every single one of them). Maybe it started with calling the wrong names, or remembering the wrong faces, or spending too many hours together that you unintentionally remember the exact timbre of their voices. Maybe the shared jokes fueled it. Maybe the laughter sealed it.

This whole orientation thing—from the preparation, the days, to the ending—left me with more things to think about (yes, it is still my hobby) and more pondering time in between assignments and me maintaining my barely there social life. More what ifs. More meanings to define.

And yes, this is my answer to my own musings: We have done that, it's just started, and this is the beginning.

(P.S.: WHAT IS GRAMMAR. My English has gone rusty.)

tulisannya • Jupiter

Sometimes, people ask me questions I am oblivious about, questions forever I can't answer, something along the line of "Am I not good enough for him/her?" or "Why can't I be perfect?" and I awkwardly smile while wondering why do they ask that to me, or to themselves. Sometimes people wonder why they are not pretty enough, or nice enough, or smart enough, and they got insecure and trying their hardest to change and they ended up miserable because they do not realize that they are perfect just they way they are.

Yes, it is cliché, but true, isn't it?

So I think about it, sometimes, like every time a question is presented to me and they are just there, niggling, waiting to be answered, even though 9 times out of 10, I can't really answer it. And yes, I do think a lot, about a lot of things. After all, thinking is the most fun you can get when you're just contently idle, doing nothing, and you don't want to do the Herculean effort of moving a muscle.

So, I think about it.

The next time someone ask me the question, I smiled, not awkwardly this time, and answered:

"Someone perfect has a heart as big as Jupiter."

Because surely someone with a heart that big is very nice, very pretty and very smart. A heart big enough to accept and care that everyone is different, and different is beautiful, and they don't discriminate because they understand. A heart big enough to be forgiving and patient. A heart big enough to not take anything for granted. A heart big enough to be brave and stand for what they believe in. A heart big enough to know that love will conquer all, no matter how cliché it is.

Someone accepting has the warmest eyes, because they never judge, because they are there with their arms (and heart) wide open, waiting to embrace. Their eyes twinkle with happiness because they see the goodness in everyone. Someone forgiving and patient has the sincerest smile, because they never force themselves to be nice. Their lips curved beautifully without malice. And with that features, how can someone be `not pretty`?a

And of course someone that not taking anything for granted, someone that standing for what they believe in, and someone that believes in love is very smart, don't you think so? Because they are passionate about what they have, what they think of, and what they love. And no, someone with a heart as big as Jupiter won't believe in something petty and self-servicing because they are nice and they care and understand.

Now that I think about it, it still doesn't answer the question. But I have met people with a heart as big as Jupiter, and it is happiness with them, so I think that someone perfect is the one that bring happiness to someone around them?

Because no matter how badly crooked their nose or teeth are, or how frizzy their hair is, or how not proportional whatever feature they have, a pair of warm eyes and sincere smile are still pretty, and surely someone that bring happiness for others is nice, and have that kind of eyes and smile?

dora the explorer • 6:32 - Kelana

Hari ini aku merantau, sayang;

cari-cari hatiku yang hilang.

Namun yang kutemukan hanya kenangan.

*

(Today I'm wandering about, darling;

looking for a heart gone missing.

But memories are my only finding.)

* * *

Earliest flight to Singapore, the sun was just peeking from the horizon.

It was breathtaking.

curhatnya • what we think of when we think about something

Every mind in this world has their muse, the one that triggers the best part of their ideas and imaginations.

The Inspiration.

It could be something simple, like their favorite song, or the pitter-patter of the cloudburst. It could be the sun, or the ocean. The smell of midsummer's rain, the feel of the sands between our toes, maybe the taste of home from the home-cooked meal. It could be that special girl you grew up with, or the old couple living next door.

It could be anything, everything, and nothing at the same time.

Someone's thoughts always revolve around certain special something.

And sometimes that certain special something changes with time.

But sometimes, sometimes a mind can't move on from something so badly, even though it hurts—even though the ideas turns into something sad and heart-wrenching. Sometimes we can't help feeling sad because we don't want to let something go. Sometimes it hurts, remembering how happy we were then, but we are not ready to bury them and move on.

Because the happy memories anchor us down and we're afraid to search for the new one that might not come. The smile and the dimple that's sketched down on the paper, the lips shaped like you always remember, but it's not yours anymore. The words they said to you, the one memorable line you want to relive but never came out the same.

Sometimes it is painful, but the happy memories make it okay.

Sometimes the pain center us.

But sometimes, we have to let go.

curhatnya • janus

Life's too short to be sittin' 'round miserable
People gon' talk whether you doing bad or good, yeah.

(Cheers (Drink to That) - Rihanna)

***

Before I start, I've got a new banner for the blog, yay! <3 Also, if you see the sidebar to the right, you'll see 'About Fransisca Theodora Fances' :3 Click to know more about me if you had the time. There's my bucket list there h3h3h3. **what**

It's actually been quite long since every education stuff is being halted, but I can't really muster up the idea to write about anything; because nothing happens to me (yeah, channeling the spirit of John Hamish Watson before Holmes) and, well, turns out that long school break is quite boring, indeed.

So boring that I got reduced to this:

(A cutscene from Janus)

Ha, pardon my stupidity.

Anyway I've been re-learning stuffs like using Photoshop and designing simple editing jazzy things and stuffs to cease my boredom and to fulfill an important work I've got to do. Turns out that my skill in Photoshop is sooo underdog and I'm going to start uni in August and I'm going to be majoring in Arts (then Cinematography) and I've got no skill at all, oh my what I'm going to do?!

(Janus: Roman's God of doorways, choices, beginnings and endings.)

I'll just go for it, I guess.

sekolah • like it's a birthday

Hullo people!

Hereby I proudly declare that School Final Examination is officially done! And I might fucked them royally. Kinda. I'm sure I failed Economics, badly, along with Math. So yeah, fingers crossed that they didn't turned out being that bad.

 Amen.

Anyways, one of the last thing to do in the series of SFE is doing a day social work in an assigned place, and S3 (my class) got Melati Kasih, a shelter for children to learn things, like crafts or something. Twas a lot of fun! I'm infatuated with their pearl of laughter and adorable smiles.

Yes, I have soft spot for nice, well-behaved kids.

No, there's no one having a birthday that day. But it looks like it, yeah? Especially with that happy birthday balloons, haha! Colorful is happy place, even though the balloons refused to stick in place for more than five minutes. (-__-)

A LOT OF CHILDREN.

It was crowded, like, realllyyy crowded. Especially when we are doing games.

And there's me teaching English. My team can't differ between mother and father in the beginning, but we finally aced that and won the game. Fuck Yeah Team 5!

It was a really tiring day, with a lot of shouting instruction and stuff. In the end of the session, after the kids all went home, Mrs. Darti, the caretaker of the shelter, have us gathered, and there's a small study session about Wayang.

SHRIEK. It's one of my favorite Indonesian crafts!

There isn't a lot of my friends excited about this thing. But I love it anyway!

He's a Dalang (wayang's puppet master), and he has 170 items of wayang, and his teacher is a great wayang maestro.

There's this story he told about wayang that left my friend a little freaked out. So, he learned about wayang in Solo (there are different wayangs in different areas, like Mangkunegaran, Pakualaman, and so on?) and he told us that there's a special wayang in Keraton Solo that's made from human skin (wayang's usually made from buffalo's skin) and that wayang has a curse. If you touched it, you'll die.

Thus, she freaked out.

Another thing is, wayang is realllyyy expensive. And that day, I fucking hold a fucking two million rupiahs Gunungan (a type of wayang used as background in the show) and damn that thing is SO COOL.

They have different pictures on each side.

I WANT ONEEE ;;_____;;

Sooo that's all for now. The only obstacle left is National Final Examination, which will be held on April 15-18. After that, a long day offs awaits! So excited for that already, whoop!

Dag!

fotonya • juli

And the sky was a-flare,
when he came up for air,

in his homemade, fan-blade,

one-man submarine ride.

( Walt Grace Submarine Test, January 1967 • John Mayer)

(i'm pretty sure her crop tee was from forever 21; and obviously the pair of shoes is converse; shorts? zilch. got no idea.)

Endless Summer.

Model: Eva Pastora

Photographer: F. Theodora

curhatnya • populorum progressio

Hullo, guys.

 

Today I'm gonna share to you a little habit of mine: I always ate something to the very last bit of it.

Siriusly.

You might see this as an odd thing, but really—seeing leftovers in restaurants, or bits of food abandoned and thrown away in the streets—they broke my heart a little bit. You might say that I'm a greedy person or a cheapskate for eating and savoring it to the very last drop, but for me, it’s odd to left your food when it’s not done eaten.

But, Dhik, I’m full, what should I do?

Well, my parents taught me to measure how much I can eat first, before blindingly taking everything to my heart’s desire. That mindset is ingrained in my head since I was a kid. Coming from the in-betweens—the not really wealthy but not poor too?—my family always told me to take it ‘secukupnya’ (English: fairly—a fair amount) so it fits my stomach’s need. Back in the day, they said something that intrigued me:

“The rice will cry if we do not eat them.”

It sounds kinda odd, isn’t it? Rice have no feelings, let alone tear glands.

Many kids in Indonesia are probably taught the same way—at least in my generation, some of we did. Because I generally hate making someone sad, I always tried to eat until my plate is really clean, without any trace of rice—I ate it until the last grain! My friends sometimes laugh at my almost OCD way of eating.

Growing up, I watch the telly, and then see the truths for myself with my very own eyes—I saw the less fortunate people struggling for shred of better life, I saw how steadfast they take it—and then I realized that what I’ve been taught as a kid is true, in it’s quirky way.

Tears dropped, about foods.

According to United Nations Environment Programme’s website, one in every seven people go to bed hungry, and more than 20.000 people die of hunger everyday, worldwide.

THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE.

I have 28 classmates at school—imagine them as a crude sample, then, every night four of them go to bed hungry. There are a lot of people all around the world—like, A LOT. Many of them is left hungry, waiting to succumb to malnutrition or something else because they lack of food. Because some irresponsible people wasted tonnes of food that probably can feed 900 million hungry people in the world.

It’s not the rice, or the other form of food, that cry, it’s the people that longing for them that dropped tears.

And did you know that wasted food contributes their own share in global warming? People condone industrial wastes for destroying the environment, but leftovers that rotting in landfills emits methane—one of the most dangerous GHG the Earth faces.

Eat smartly might take baby steps to do—with people’s habit and different lifestyles we lived, but every scrap of food we waste, someone in the other side of the world might be dying to have that. So count your blessings and share them.

Eat. Wisely.

Toodles!

---

Title's translation: The Development of People; an encyclical written by Pope Paul VI.

curhatnya • I VOTED!

So you all probably already know what's in this post, based on the title only.

PEMILUKADA JABAR, baby! (Eng: West Java's Governor Election?)

This is the first time I voted, so forgive me for being a little hyped up. It's just... When I was a kid, it looks really cool. And being the youngest in the family, I had to wait the longest to come of age, so I had to stay at home while my parents and brother voted in the previous elections. (Also, my head was filled with delusional justice ideas; that we helped this country to have better government and stuff... MUAHAHAHA. I was utterly stupid back then.)

Anyway.

It's really uneventful when you got to it. Come to the assigned place, get confirmed to vote, get the ballot, stab it, put it in the box, dip your little finger into ink to finalize the vote.

It's not even crowded like I usually saw on the telly.

What to tell about the procedure? I was in the voting booth, scrutinizing the ballot for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Because I very nearly stab one of the candidates faces, just for the sake of it. Then I yelled out and asked my Ma; but the answer came from the officials outside the voting booths.

Those overbearing eavesdroppers.

(You yelled, you moron. They heard you.)

Also, the seemingly mandatory photo of my little finger.

The official in the voting place said to not to wipe it. So I blow the ink dry and leave it alone. But suddenly, the purple ink is EVERYWHERE. So now I had my little finger wrapped neatly (not) so it won't stain every single thing it contacted.

Overall, the election is quite tedious. But fun?

I hope the one I vote win, yay! *fingers-crossed*

sekolah • JAN 19

MEGASPIRIT WAS SO FUCKING DOPEEE!!

I had a lot of fun; the best Saturday night in January 2013, definetely! What a way to do 2013, before the dreading examinations and all that suckers. The crowd was epic, the guest stars were legendary. MEGASPIRIT itself is the BEST. Standing ovation for the Agents that make it happened!

GO REGINA PACIS BOGOR! And especially 2013 \m/

(Taken by Giring Nidji himself. LOL.)

. M E G A S P I R I T . 

tulisannya • pilot chapter

We saw her today and Shiva is a riot.

Teddy laughed.

Because he keeps on saying that he is over her, over her, so over her, but one glimpse of her throws his balance off. We can't blame him, though. Humans are just so sensitive, so feeling. He possess the heart of a poet, we all do. We wrote saga out of our sorrow, and we sang despair out loud. The misery personified, pain made auditory.

In the end, he can't resist glancing.

And he crumbles down.

And we go down with him.

Because that's what brothers do, right? Finishing each others' sentences. Goofing around, calling the others obscene names. Do prank and get detention together.

We crash and burn together, shattered.

***

The Journal of Theo S. K.

07/01