curhatnya × music monthly • hari kedua di tahun 2018

Gue rasa, gue ini lebih bodoh daripada keledai.

Atau mungkin ini cuma drama awal tahun yang nggak begitu penting tapi dibesar-besarkan atas dasar supaya 2018 punya rasa saja. Nggak penting untuk diomongin juga, but I just want to throw the statement out there to let it sink into my mind. Kenapa ya, ganti tahun tidak terasa bedanya? Sama seperti ketika gue ulang tahun satu setengah bulan yang lalu. Gue masih bodoh dan bercokol di masalah yang sama seperti ketika sedang menjalani tugas akhir. Masih harus tertawa hambar diantara lelucuan yang tidak lucu. Masih harus menjadi gumpalan atom bersama ibu-ibu kereta. Masih mencari bahagia dalam melankoli yang berlarut-larut.

Tapi sebenarnya apa sih yang gue harapkan?

Mungkin gue berharap tiba-tiba gue bangun dari tidur delapan jam yang nyenyak dan gue tahu apa yang gue mau dari hidup gue. Kerja di agensi above the line? Bikin feature film pertama gue? Fasih bahasa roh? Menemukan obat untuk kanker? Ikut misi ekspedisi ke Mars? Punya kekuatan teleportasi?

Entahlah. 

Ngomong-ngomong, sureal juga ya rasanya nggak harus pergi ke kampus, masuk kelas, dan mengedukasi diri mengenai perfilman. Gue cukup rindu dengan atmosfir produktif yang gue lalui sepanjang empat tahun perguruan strata satu, dari begadang untuk mendadak membersihkan kamar kos karena tidak bisa tidur dan nonton film tengah malam bersama teman-teman, tidur di McDonald's dan Starbucks atas nama bikin tugas, sampai kenal sama mbak-mbak Indomaret dan Alfamart in the neighborhood saking seringnya datang untuk emergency snack run.

Kangen deh jadi warga Scientia. Tapi gue sekarang Orange Garden.

:-(

Ngomong-ngomong lagi, ternyata gue adalah pembohong karena pas bulan September 2017 gue bilang gue akan cerita tentang "my well-deserved holiday that I did my waiting for four years for" terus sudah Januari 2018 dan belum gue tulis juga. Mungkin di postingan setelah yang ini. Plis tungguin ya! Sebab gue senang sekali bisa pergi liburan dan kalian harus ikut bahagia sama gue.

Tapi untuk sekarang gue akan bikin daftar musik bulanan (yang juga dari judulnya saja artinya gue bohong juga karena sudah nggak gue update dari September 2017 juga) yang akan bertemakan Tahun Baru sebab gue ternyata seklise itu:

1. Dog Days Are Over • Florence + the Machine

2. Lihatlah Lebih Dekat • Jakarta Movement of Inspiration (OST. Petualangan Sherina)

3. Staying Alive • Bee Gees

4. Sober (맨정신) • BIGBANG

5. I Wanna Get Better • Bleachers
6. Young Volcanoes • Fall Out Boy
7. Blue Skies • Jamiroquai
8. Walt Grace's Submarine Test, January 1967 • John Mayer
9. Homesick • Peniel & Kairos
10. Matahari Pagi • Banda Neira

Sebagai positive vibes untuk menyambut kalender dan agenda yang baru. Untuk tahun ini pun, mari mencari kebahagiaan dan menebar kebaikan.

With love,

your foreign storyteller.

oyayaya • 2

Dulu, cita-citaku jadi presiden.

Tapi mama bilang,
  "mana mungkin."

"Kamu kan
          perempuan
               Cina
                    nasrani pula."

Terus kenapa

kalau aku terlahir berdada tanpa lingga, dari keluarga keturunan minoritas,
dan memilih untuk berlindung di balik ketek Nabi yang berbeda dari mayoritas?

He he he he

ha ha ha

h h h.

Tapi kalau dipikir lagi
kayaknya aku tidak ada pantas-pantasnya jadi presiden.

OSIS dan BEM tidak pernah mampir. Kuliah saja sering mangkir.
Sukanya cuma mencibir mahasiswa eksekutif yang boleh alfa tapi dianggap masuk
demi pasang wajah di kepentingan kampus yang kurang penting.

Pokoknya,                                            Supaya,
      kuliah supaya jadi sarjana.                  gaji di atas tiga juta.

Soalnya dunia ini jahat sama orang miskin.
Antagonisnya,
lebih-lebih dari ibu tiri Cinderella.

Makanya aku mau jadi sarjana.
Katanya itu salah satu syarat supaya bisa kaya.

Entahlah.

oyayaya • 1

Dia bilang, dia cinta kamu,

sampai-sampai nggak bisa hidup tanpa kamu.

Itu empat tahun yang lalu.

Tiga tahun yang lalu, kalian putus.

Terus?

Ya, nggak ada terusannya.

Kan kalian putus.

          Aku yang cuma narator

               (yang serba tidak tahu)

                    bisa apa?

Kadang kupikir,

kalian bisa bersama selama-lamanya.

Soalnya dia sudah membayangkan hidupnya sama kamu,

tapi mungkin kamu tidak.

Tidak tahu seberapa sering dia memikirkan rumah masa depan kalian,

minimalis seperti kesukaan keluarga muda masa kini,

pagarnya putih, temboknya merah muda.

Tidak tahu dia mau punya anak dua,

yang tua laki-laki, adiknya perempuan, dua-duanya mirip kamu,

ditambah seekor anjing gendut berkaki pendek seperti yang dimiliki Ratu Inggris.

Sudahlah.

          Aku yang cuma narator

               sebaiknya berhenti menginvestasikan perasaan

                    pada hal-hal kurang penting seperti hubungan fiktif kalian.

tulisannya • hobiku memang membual.

Ibarat penghujan,

aku adalah kubangan,

yang dibenci semua orang.

Ibarat kemarau,

suaraku sudah parau,

tapi masih hendak meracau.

Ah, ini semua cuma sandiwara,

dan bahkan lakonku tidak sempat bahagia.

Tapi tirai sudah jatuh,

menara terlanjur runtuh,

kita semua jenuh,

titik.

Tamat.

• • •

Wanita dalam foto bernama Veronica,

difoto tahun 2011.

curhatnya • dream log

Sometimes I woke up with fragments of time buried deep, moments better left untouched, and words left unsaid. Sometimes I woke up with memories I'm not sure ever happened. Sometimes I woke up with a small smile that I never know what the cause is. Sometimes I woke up with someone's voice echoing within my ear shell unto the bleak, static morning.

Most of time, I never remember what exactly my dream was about.

One alarming morning when I do not forget, I woke up abruptly and left awake staring at my ceiling as a dying man's voice reverberated around me, confessing love with his last breath to God knows who. I am aware that dreams about sick friend come sporadically, and these are dreams I often remember; I loathe them, because it almost feels like premonition, and they left me with cold anxiety of someone passing away, like what happened once upon a time.

Some of the forgotten dreams come back so suddenly like a car crash; déjà vu, as we call it. A glimpse of the future a lot of people often see. It is a love-hate relationship, a déjà vu. When it's pleasant, you're going to be okay, after the initial disorientation I never mastered not to feel. When it's unpleasant, it sends me into a whirlwind of inner turmoils, burning regrets, and blaming games I never won.

I often wonder what they mean, but I refuse to mull over it in fear that it will hunt me, like the way sky dies prematurely always hit me with a wave of agony.

curhatnya • terkadang,

terlintas di kepalaku kalau aku mencintaimu sampai di luar ambang batas;

kalau aku mencintaimu sampai-sampai aku tidak lagi w a r a s.

tulisannya • too young to know about forever.

I am under the illusion that we will be like this forever.

Only too jaded that we ran away to the dark side of the moon;

only not here in our sanctuary of beds and blankets and pillows;

only more in love than yesterday.

But forever is only a fabricated castle in the air.

You unceremoniously ran my heart over;

and now it's a roadkill.

(  Our forever is over.  )

tulisannya • 409.

I love you, you know? But I'm not in love with you. The statement sounds so cheesy and sometimes I hate myself for it; hate myself for feeling it. Next thing I know I'll probably spew something like it's not you it's me.

I love you like I love thunderstorm, because there's so much more to it, and being in love is uncomplicated, unlike how I love thunderstorm, or how I love you. Because it's not everyday there's a thunderstorm, like it's not everyday that I'll meet someone like you.

Sometimes, I think I can launch into an endless hours of speech on why I love thunderstorm, if I'm ever outspoken enough to do it. I'm not, obviously, often opted to whisper one or two sentences instead, because my ABCs always play Judas on me. You said that I'm the strong silent type, and maybe it's one of the reason why I love you. You understand me even with all the words that left unsaid.

The reason why I love thunderstorm is not the thunderstorm itself; or at least, not only the thunderstorm itself.

I love the sound of the rain that comes with it, the storm, even though I sometimes flinch at the sound of thunder, curling on in myself when I see a particularly big lightning that gives the anticipation of a loud booming that come seconds to its appearance. I love the window I sit next to and the blanket that wraps around me and the cup of steaming cuppa, two sugar and a dash of cream, because that's what I do when thunderstorm comes, and only when thunderstorm comes. It is precious; like you're precious.

I love how bold it is, the thunderstorm, loud and confident and eye-catching. Like you, on the first day of sophomore year when I noticed you laughing boisterously down the hallway by my best friend's locker. You, and your honey-colored Bambi eyes, and your raven hair with fringe that swoop just above your thick eyelashes.

I love how the sky clears up after a thunderstorm, azure and afresh, like it's been born again. And they always have the best twilight after a thunderstorm, the most breathtaking 6.13PM kind of twilight that's the combination of lilac, amber, and Tyrian purple. It is the prettiest; like you're the prettiest.

You are a thunderstorm in many sense. And I love you, but I'm not in love with you.

Because being in love would be simpler than how I feel for you.

tulisannya • bicara cinta

Kehilangan itu seperti

ditinggal terbenam matahari

tapi dia tidak terbit lagi.

Merindu itu seperti

hujan turun tadi pagi.

Dan mencintai itu seperti

hanya memberi

tak harap kembali.

***

(Lagi kangen rumah.)

FRTHEODORA

2014

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?

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.