Posts Tagged With: time

what matters most to be a film producer

“Has the time comes yet for us?”

I said no. Not yet.

My friend looked disappointed. She asked, “Why not?”

Because we are not ready, I said.

She looked at me once again, hoping there will be another words from me.

I opened my book and started to read it.

It was a very nice sunday, at least for both of us, it feels like sunday. We sit in a very cozy corner, a cup of cappucino and another slice of cheesecake for my dear friend. Some Fashion magazines on the side and another Paulo’s new book I brought that afternoon. Everything was simpler than it became later on that day. We were planning to spend sometime together and keep up with new piracy DVDs in town. We were planning to get ourselves some good food and good view, in a place we only knew. Then she asked the question. And I can’t lie no more. Not to her face.

We both are Film Freelancer. We studied in Film School, got bachelor degree 2 years ago, and now facing the real life, real world-that nobody ever gave any heads up abut how mess it is when we’re student (that’s my friend always said-me myself has been warned, so I’m more prepared than her-yeah, right). Most of the times, things hasn’t happened exactly like the way we expected them to be. So we kind of got surprised and wonder if there’s anything we can do to make everything’s right.

I mean, to be honest, the industry is a mess, regeneration process never keep it’s persistence, and teachers simply not tried their best to teach. In some level, we believe, students, teachers, professionals and industry it self, gave up. So now, there are some people who, either has the power, the money, the talent, the lucky, or has all that, rise up and take control of this premature national film industry. Don’t get me wrong, some good results comes up,  most of people now even believe that the industry, once again, rise up high.

But I keep moving on, I did my jobs, swore to never get back to film producing anymore-ever, and then got another job in film works and again, get it done. While my dear friend, let her mind took control and lost perspective, she didn’t take any film jobs, yet working on any jobs for that matter. Until one day she asked how to be happy for what she chose to live with.

Once again, I told her, that she’s not ready.

She got confused and asked for an explanation.

See. When you want to be a Producer who Produce a good film and make bucks from it, first you have to see a ladder in front of you. Then, make the first step.  You can look up or look down, but you will find your self not alone. There’s a lot of people around you, working on the same high ladder to go to the same place up high. You may start kicking your rivals, cause damages to their ladders, -anything to make this journey is all bout you only-, or you can just keep focusing on finishing your homework and exercise your body to be a stronger climber.

Either way, we call it a process.

My dear friend listened patiently. Gosh, I shouldn’t talk the wrong things to her now. She’ll gone crazy in second.

As we know, it takes time. And we never know if we will make it or not and I think, it wouldn’t matter anymore. Because when you call the process, you will begin constructing your self to be a better person everyday. A better film crew, everyday. And when that’s what happens in your life for real-constructing your self to be a better person everyday by doing the job you love-you won’t have times to comment on others. No matter how lucky they are to never have to climb the ladder you climb to be a Film Producer, to be a person you’ve been dying to be since the first movie you watched.

I know it bothers you my dear, I said. And it’s okay. It hurts to know someone has everything we’ve been trying to get since we know how to live our life fully. And it’s really okay. I know, every single smile you showed was really tears of realizing that where they’re there, you’re not even close yet. It’s okay. It’s really-really okay.

So take your time, to see, to listen, to judge, to cry, to blame, to run, to ever sorry for who you are, to ever mad at your imperfection.

Then move on. Because Life goes on. Any dreams shouldn’t die before it comes true. And for that, my friend, I’ll team you up to fight this. To be where we’re supposed to be. You can put me as your front line soldier, or hide me somewhere we only know, to create strategies to win this war. Nobody will find me, nobody will able to touch you, and even if we have to leave wounds, we will win it. Someday soon.

In the meantime, let’s do our homeworks. And eat good food once in a while. Learn more and more. Everyday. Everyday. This is who we are, this is what we love to do, and this is our life. Nobody should drive this car. Let’s rise to it, no matter what. Let’s rise to it.

We both know I might talked bullshit. But we were smiling. Laughed at our own silliness. Then we ate our good food. And those were real good food. That’s what matters most to be a Film Producer: To enjoy your good food. That’s what matters most. 

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

losing perspective

My dearest,

Lately I’ve seen news that no matter how I tried just can’t understand why such things happened. No matter how those people tried to explain to me, it just not makes any sense to me.

An 11 y.o. boy committed suicide, the day when he realized that both of his parents were lying about their plan to buy him a bicycle. This young boy climbed a very high tower in the city and TV crew catches a moment before he really jumped. People thought that this kid was just kidding, you know, like any other kids around the world. And without any sign whatsoever, he made the jump.

He became the headlines, any single bicycle wouldn’t make him to comeback again.

Not so long after that, I watched another news. This time, he’s older, 13 y.o. He committed suicide by hang his self, simply because he just had a haircut and the haircut went wrong. He wrote a letter, contain a very polite apologize to both of his parents for making this decision, a sincere confess he made that even though he love his parents and family so much, he simply can’t face another embarrassment anymore. He wrote that this might the best way for everyone, that he must die.

He’s the headline then, and I will never forget the little simple notes he left for his parents, just right before he hung himself.

My mother said, “Those little kids, making decisions for their life, they shouldn’t allow doing that. Big stupid decisions to just end their life like that. So ridiculous…” And she followed the news everyday; get me to the point, that her reaction was a mother’s reaction. Any mother’s reaction, that’s understandable.

I my self can’t get these stories out of my mind. Every kid in the world wants something and every kid in the world doesn’t always get what they wanted too, anyhow. This supposed to be a story of a kid disappointed and then continue to live again somehow. You know, just deal with it. Angry to parents, runaway from home and stay at friends for a week, make our little sister or brother cries just to even the pain to our parents, maybe.

But to took their own life? Even the best Psychologist in the whole world won’t relate to the pain that caused this decision made. And when I saw a few moments in a close up shot, when the 11 y.o. boy stand up to make the jump, I realized he suffered a lot of pain, that may has begin since nobody knows. How did I know? Because he was smiling. A second before he jumped, he smiled, like knowing that this will end soon, and that’s what he really wanted.

People talk a lot about these events and one opinion that came from a well-known Indonesian Children Psychologist took my attention for a while. He said that we shouldn’t look at these events by seeing what we can see know, by just seeing what seems for now. For example, our global understanding is the boy committed suicide because his parents didn’t buy him a bicycle. Or with the other boy, even for more ridiculous reason, because of his haircut went wrong.

The fact is, he continued, the bicycle boy were always mocked by his friends at school, and growing in a total abandoned from his alcoholic father and a sex-worker mother. Meanwhile, the haircut boy live in a very poor family, that no matter how hard his father (a farmer) works, or his mother works, this family won’t survive well. The haircut boy hasn’t pay his school fee for months and became the object among other students at school for his poor. Both situations have been going on for years, at least 5 years before they committed suicide, he said.

That explained a lot more than I ever can get. That what happened were not just what happened, stories happened along the way before those stories we knew–really happened. That what happened was accumulations from what happened before. That this boys, wasn’t speak for only bicycle and haircut. There’s more.

I knew it. There’s always more. There’s always more to it.
There’s always something behind (just) what we see.

I my self, is in this phase now. Where every little thing becomes so much matter than any other ‘real thing’ that might deserve more attention. Where no matter how people say, I just can’t hear. No matter how the signs walk by and passed me by, I just don’t see. I lost my ability to see, to hear, to -even- feel. My logic somehow rest my heart for a bit, knowing that I’m in a place that nobody can see me or meet me, –that way–nobody can hurt me (at least, for now).

In my case, the trigger came from someone I’ve been in love with. One day I found out that he’s been lying (again) to me. This has happened for several times, at least three times that I (want to) remember. And the object has been always the same (woman). At one to three, I thought everybody deserve a second chance. And now I simply think, his kindness and charming heart to people made him abandoned my feelings, forget about what I feel and simply no longer notice me beside him. Well, at least, that’s how I feel.

So when we’re talk about it, I hear my self saying a lot of things that happened since we met (about 7 months ago). Things I always wanted to say, to complain, things I have been hiding from him. Things that he didn’t know was always been a matter to me. Things that made him feel like I want him to be Perfection now. Things that I just realize now, should never been hide from him, for whatever reason.

Things that after I said them to him, made me realize just how much I loved him. That much so I hide all of them from him, that now–no matter what I said, he stand still in what he believe: us. Those little events before that day when I caught him lying again to me, has accumulated into a big anger that lost somehow inside my heart. For those seems resolved already–for him, but the truth they never once resolved, for me. Having my days and walks them with this unbelievable pain (that I never know I can suffer such things) made me loose Perspective. Perspective to him, to us, to world, to people, and the worst, to my self.

As I walked down the street everyday now, I wonder how can start to recollect the pieces of my self again, that has been divided for so many and spread all over places, abandoned. Am not trying to take control of my own life, or anybody’s life for that matter. No matter just how much Capricorn people tend to do that naturally, I just not interested to this control something that far.

And now that I find my self thinks about these young boys, I finally can relate my self to their pain, their questions that never answered, their problems that seems too little for this big world that never had any single chance to be heard, to be taken care of.

So at what point I can be convinced/sure once again? I don’t know. This pain is just…. I don’t even know how to cry anymore, how to feel when someone walks into me and ask my name gently, I just… don’t know.

Well, I do still hope that whatever best will happen to me, it should happen. But if someone asked what do I really want? I still don’t know. I do know one thing that I don’t want though, that with the man I love, I don’t want to be hurt anymore (especially for the same reason–over and over again). That if yesterday the argument was about the ex-gf, tomorrow (if we have to) we should argue about things that bigger than that, to prove that we moved on. Even in my job, why would I want to face the same problem everyday?

That this condition, when everything seems either too much or nothing at all, isn’t worth for whatever reasons. That losing perspective somehow just hurting you more and more. And it has to end, hopefully would feel like the warm of the arms that used to hold me–when it end. And I’ll know I’ll be just fine.

Because people bad when they are bad. No matter what circumstances, bad people will just turn into one, just a matter of time. And I just want to be who I used to be, someone that believe in my self, trust in my self and have respect with my self. Others wouldn’t really matter anymore.

I deserve what I always deserve.
It’s only a matter of time, like always.

Night, my dear child.
Kiss your forehead.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009 at 10:52pm

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

the blue book

It was 2000, my dear, 9 years ago. When I was in Yogya, studying Broadcast, and just have a rough broke up with my boyfriend, who happened to be my partner in every ‘crime’ too. I was surrounded by nice seniors (seniors in Yogya definitely better and better than seniors in Jakarta) who never stop sharing knowledge and wisdom to me. Even so, inside I still feel lonely and sad.

It was just yesterday, when I found it. See, I’m trying to clean and organize my stuff lately. Since I kept everything that matters to me since I was a baby, I have a lot of stuff, including color feathers I collected and exchange with friends when I was 9 (I don’t know why I did that). Between these stuff, I found a bundle of notes I made since I was 8. Honestly I wasn’t having so much fun reading them (because most were about the searching of love and needs to be listened).

Until I found a blue book that I believe it’s not mine (because mine should be fancy, and this one is a boring look book). I read it. The book filled with poems, which written in a very bad handwriting. But I can read them. Then, I remember him, the man who wrote these poems. After several pages, I saw my own poems, written in a good handwriting (I don’t write that good anymore, how silly). Some of my best friends wrote there too, once. Then I saw his poems again, then mine, then him, and so on. I thought this might happened when we were in high school and we exchange books, like I did with other friends too. We even exchanged diaries. But when I look up the date, it was 2000.

Especially when he wrote a very nice poem, confessing his love for me that has been there since 3 years ago. After that poem, I wrote a song lyric ‘I have a dream’ and there was none others but blank pages. And the book still with me.

What shocked me most is that I don’t remember any of this has happened. I remember we wrote poems, in that book, I remember that he loves me, but I don’t remember how I reacted after that confess poem, at all. I don’t even remember how I managed to keep exchanging that book with him so we can write each other. I was in Yogya and he’s in Jakarta. I’m not sure that I sent the book from Yogya, or received the book in Yogya. Is that mean that the book was in Jakarta? And is that why I lost contact with him until now?

A while before I sleep, as usually, I wrote. It was 7 a and I’m very tired. So I let my mind unconsciously lead my hand to write. That’s what makes me surprise, when I read my notes again just now, when I just woke up.

On that last note, I wrote how I wanted to meet him. How I wanted to see him once again, see if life has treated him good. And if there’s a chance, I wanted to let him know that it was never him that made us lost contact. It was me, who ran away from the feelings I had for him that time. Afraid of what might happens if he found out that I loved him too, all that time. Afraid of the fact that we’re far away from each other. Afraid of losing him.

And if I have enough time, I wanted to hold him because I owe a long apologize. To abandoned his feelings that way. To let him hope when I was step back and put distance, but my feelings grows inside, and I guess he never knew.

And now I know it doesn’t matter anymore. I remember tried to call him at home, when I was move in to Jakarta – 2001, but he never returned my calls. I asked friends, nobody know where he is. He disappeared, out of my life.

A lot of things happened in that 9 years. A lot of lost and found. But this confess poem is my greatest found so far. It’s written sincerely with pure love, that I believed that if I took the chance this love would set me free in many levels, and we’re still together up ‘til now. And when I read it, my dear, oh how I feel warm and so blessed. That once in this life, someone loved me for who I am, even for my fragile and silly heart. For once in my life, I had truly loved, truly loved, by someone like him, a gentleman.

And for that, Vary Trisyandi, I wish you the best in life, as you’ve given me the best in my life. I’ll say a little pray for you, every night, wherever you are, may you always surrounded by love. May you always be that gentleman, who touches people’s life warmly, and of course, may you always have that big heart for your loved ones, for your self.

I’ll keep the book with me, as I know you might continue your life and that book shouldn’t be there to distract you. If we meet someday, we’ll meet. Until then, God bless you, dear.

So my child, I have another digging to go now, hopefully I’ll find something silly to show you someday. I love you, you know that. And yes, I love you more than love your Dad (Sssh, don’t tell him, yaa?).

Miss you.

Saturday, February 28, 2009 at 2:27am

Categories: a letter to my unborn child, people | Tags: , , , | 10 Comments

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