Monthly Archives: April 2013

Hazard

I will never forget the first time I heard the song, and sometimes a while after when I really confirmed what I heard and realized that I’ve heard right the first time.

Hazard tells a story about a relationship between a man (in the video music implied by Richard Marx, the singer) and a woman named Mary.

Mary dies in a suspicious situation where in the song, it says that people put the man as the most considered suspect. But, is he?…

The man, known as ‘the boy’s not right’, found comfort getting closed with Mary, who find the man by his soul, stating in the lyric: ‘saw the man inside’. The song also implied that they spent more than friends quality times, by the lyric: ‘we used to walk down by the river, she loves to watch the sun go down’. They even ‘dream our way out of this town’.

The man stated in the song about the death of Mary, ‘I swear I left her by the river, I swear I left her safe and sound’. But before, the song also stated ‘No one cared until the night she went out walkin’ all alone, and never came home’.

hazard

So he was there with her. And he left her safe and sound.

But, then again, if that’s what happened, how would he know that she never came home?

There was another man, in the video there was another Point of View beside the Point of View of the man, is someone who seemed pay an intensive attention to Mary, the Sheriff. Could he be the one who killed Mary? Out of jealousy? Or else?

Or is there any other people left out from my sight and hearing, that could possibly killed her? Someone who was never in the text or the picture but always in the line of actions.

Who the hell killed Mary?!

Categories: music and song | Tags: , , , | Leave a comment

We accept the change, and embrace everyone to respect history.

After 45 years, Jakarta Institute of Arts is now on it’s way to a massive changes. It’s been explained that the building has suffered many-many wounds during those long and dinamic years. Everytime, they are all fixed them and moved on.

Several months ago, by the hands of Government, Jokowi-Ahok, we got fund to not only make it better, but also make it bigger, that gives chances for more unique and different individuals to join us in this big family.

The students nowadays has to spend their 2 (or maybe 3?) years there learning in a very compromise classes, they maybe graduated already when the new building is built. Some of them will have to learn in another place away from the Jakarta Institute of Arts area. Lecturers and staff must set their desks movable and ready to re-located for a while, during the process.

I saw this, and it moves me. Those corners, secret paths I’ve been walked on to avoid cruel seniors on my way to classes, walls holding my friends’s tears over turbulences happening between assignments, examinations, and jobs inbetween to be able to pay the classes, seats under the tree where we easily spent laughing together and fell asleep between one class with another, secret desks where I often hide my self under it and listen to my walkman and write or reading down there, pretty soon, they will change. They already gone, physically.

Yesterday, more than 400 people (students and alumni) gathered together. They stand on the sites, and spots that was still standing there for a while now. The mission was simple: to capture the last moment of our ‘home’, in whatever condition they are now.

As today people started loading up, the pictures comes up online, my tears comes down. So this is how it feels to let go.

I’m a firm believer that change is good. And seeing my friends yesterday, meeting them again after years, in an -accidentally-but-happens happily- big family reunion, was certainly a livingproof of it. Each of them, was a livingproof of it.

No one was the same person as I knew them before. They are all changed. The exhausted feelings from many activities days before was cured easily when I see them again. Hugging my friends tightly on the path where we used to do the same thing-with our backpack and sweat-sun-smell over our body, it bursted my solitude bubble easily, instantly. Both my arms was simply just spreading open wide to hug them. To once again embracing togetherness, as those old slides just came screening in my heads, took me travelling somewhere else fast, moments with laugh and tears, somewhere between this crazy-busy-town-tik-tok hours, where all we ever expected was a change, for a better everything.

Look at us. And how time flies. The changes in us, look at us.

This is good. We accept changes within ourselves, and now set our foot back to see our handprints in our ‘home’, our soon-to-be-changed-also-‘home’.

I’m proud of this family. We fight sometimes, screaming at each other endlessly, or silently, -just like any other family in this world-, but then we make up and we come home. All that was necessary, was necessary. And all that’s left was an enormous respect for those roof above us, our home.

Those big-strong-arms protecting us for 45 years, now ready to have a make-over.

Cry if you have to, or venting (over anything you can set for the reasons) if you want to. But let’s make it real, accept the change and let go. So that we soon will be strong enough to respect history, our history.

And here it is, the history, our history, my one big family, Jakarta Institute of Arts.

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

Image

ray fandy pakpahan

Image

Image

Pictures are personal collections of members of the big family. Thanks a whole bunch for such treats! ^_^

Categories: people, places, stories | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Overlooked

Do you realize how busy people is? How hectic the world and the whole universe is? Best things are now invented to make everything is easier, more practical and even more, in my personal opinion, ignorant.

Have you ever wonder where they headed? I mean those busy people. The hectic world. The hectic universe. Where are we going?

And even after everything, they are still not happy. And they keep busy, and, are they happy?

Was is ever worthed? All those efforts?

Is there still any room for love, tears and compassion? Or are they in a hurry also? In a hectic-hectic mode on also? Do we still have time for a 3 seconds hugs with people we care about?

Have we been overlooked all those quiet and silences?

Oh, how I wonder.

Categories: thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Wanted, but nowhere to find.

In the big family of my mom’s side, where you can find many-many kinds of family drama-and we now have learned to laugh over them-, me and my cousins have a similar symptoms of a fugitive: wanted, but nowhere to find.

When I was 8, as I’m told by my nanny (at the time) and neighbors, I had a pile of clothes wrapped in a big fabric, we called it here ‘buntelan kain’. When I remember that I had a younger brother, I made a higher pile of the ‘buntelan kain’. Here’s a simple visual brief of the first kind of bag I ever know beside my yellow Tuxedosam school bag.

Image

Image is from a website: http://www.mainmakan.com/?p=1013

Now, imagine that high pile, put them all on a big fabric and wrap them up. More or less, is going to look like this.

Well, at the time it was a lace fabric, leftover from one of my mom’s (she was a tailor) client. And in a way you can put the ‘buntelan kain’ on your shoulder. So you, would look like this, er, more or less. And yes, most of the time, I didn’t wear any sandals, socks, foot wrap. Just went total on Tom Sawyer mode.

Image

Tom Sawyer

So every other night, I would pack my things and wait until dark and silent, so I can walk out the door and leave my house. The funny thing is, at first my nanny was panicked to not find me on the bed. So she looked for me everywhere in the house. She knows very well about my up and down moods, how easily disappointed I was. She remembered that and started to try to find me outside the house. Her works wasn’t really hard, because then she found me in front of my house, falling asleep with my head on the ‘buntelan kain’. Wondering in her mind and holding her laugh inside, it was 3 am, she said, my nanny carried me back on bed. And I woke up innocently, didn’t remember anything about it.

For a while later on, she asked her son (who is 7-10 years older than me), to stake out on me every night. It went on for years. Some nights were very dramatic with tears and get tired my self, fell asleep inside a little booth where all the local security worked, made friends with troubled teenager in the area (was occassionally drunk and very chatty like crazy to me at the time)-this boy turned out to be a good man in the end-, seeing and hearing things I never thought I would at night (and this no means in whatsoever meanings of ghost)-never understood what they were, actually-, and found my own peace sleeping on the road side under the stars. I was just disappointed with too many mosquitos surrounding me.

Almost everyone knows, I’ve been learned, including my neighbours. But my own parents didn’t. When they knew it, I already done with the phase.

Later on I’ve learned that at the same time, my cousin, DD, who is 3 years older than me, struggling with the ‘dynamic’ of life. She put her stuff in a suitcase, yes a real suitcase, and put it at the corner of her room. When she was 18, she put her passport inside the suitcase also. She brought the suitcase to her friend’s home, put it there, so ‘in case of emergency’ she said, she can use the suitcase to start a new life somewhere else-not home.

My brother has a rather different kind of symptom. He bought like 5 or 9 motorcycle helmet and put them like everywhere. He planted couple shirts here and there to managed to be able to go anywhere needed.

There was a time when I myself bring my passport everywhere in my bag. My boyfriend at the time found out about this, and he gently asked me one night, “Babe, are we going somewhere?”

I don’t know what happened. I just love to have my choices in my bag. The consequences that no one could understand (really) about my habit to bring my toiletries everywhere everytime was more like a privilege for me. To feel freedom, or at least a sense of it. Especially when I know I actually had no other choice but to stay and deal with whatever hell in front of me. Then I put my passport inside my bag, and there was born, a new choice, for me to consider on.

For some of my friends, this makes me a fugitive. They believe that I’m wanted (by them, from time to time), but I was never anywhere to find, physically. Well, here goes the hard-truth-fact, along with the irony for you. It wouldn’t matter wether I was there or not with you guys. Or with anybody else. We all know that. Life goes on.

Life happens.

And I will still carry that passport in my bag.

So keep up, my beautiful friends, I will see you when I see you ^_^

me and my new version of 'buntelan kain'

me and my new version of ‘buntelan kain’

Categories: mess | Tags: , , , , | 1 Comment

Sending you the Stars

Dear my Unborn Child,

Spread your arms wide open up there.

‘Cos I’m sending you the stars.

Be good, baby ^_^

Image

I miss you..

Categories: a letter to my unborn child, thoughts | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

%d bloggers like this: